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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 5
V.
THE
SUN'S
WOOING.
The
sun
merely
brushed
the
morning;
The
morning,
a
joyful
thing,
Believed
he
had
come
to
stay,
And
life
would
be
eternal
spring.
She
felt
herself
exalted,
—
A
heightened,
ethereal
being;
Henceforth,
for
her,
what
holiday!
Meanwhile,
her
revolving
king
Moved
slowly
through
the
orchards
His
proud,
embellished
hems,
Leaving
a
new
desire,
—
The
need
for
diadems!
The
morning
fluttered,
staggered,
Searched
feebly
for
her
crown,
—
Her
unadorned
forehead
Henceforth
her
only
one.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana