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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 3, Poema 14
XIV.
PURPLE
CLOVER.
There
is
a
flower
that
bees
prefer,
And
butterflies
desire;
To
gain
the
purple
democrat
The
hummingbirds
aspire.
And
every
insect
that
passes
by,
Takes
honey
away
Proportioned
to
his
own
need
And
her
capacity.
Her
face
is
rounder
than
the
moon,
And
redder
than
the
gown
Of
orchids
in
the
pasture,
Or
rhododendron
worn.
She
does
not
wait
for
June;
Before
the
world
is
green
Her
sturdy
little
face
Against
the
wind
is
seen,
Competing
with
the
grass,
Her
close
kin,
For
privilege
of
earth
and
sun,
Sweet
contenders
for
life.
And
when
the
hills
are
full,
And
newer
fashions
blow,
She
does
not
retract
a
single
spice
For
pangs
of
jealousy.
Her
public
is
the
noon,
Her
providence
the
sun,
Her
progress
by
the
bee
announced
In
sovereign,
unwavering
tune.
The
bravest
of
the
host,
Surrendering
the
last,
Not
even
aware
of
defeat
When
canceled
by
the
frost.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana