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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 52
LII.
To
learn
the
joy
through
the
pain,
As
blind
men
learn
the
sun;
To
die
of
thirst,
suspecting
That
brooks
in
meadows
run;
To
keep
the
homesick,
homesick
feet
On
a
foreign
shore
Haunted
by
native
lands,
meanwhile,
And
blue,
beloved
air
—
This
is
the
sovereign
anguish,
This,
the
signal
woe!
These
are
the
patient
laureates
Whose
voices,
trained
below,
Ascend
in
ceaseless
carol,
Inaudible,
indeed,
To
us,
the
duller
scholars
Of
the
mysterious
bard!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana