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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 8, Poema 31
XXXI.
PRECEDENCE.
Wait
until
the
majesty
of
Death
Adorns
so
humble
a
brow!
Almost
a
powdered
footman
Might
dare
to
touch
it
now!
Wait
until
in
everlasting
robes
This
democrat
is
dressed,
Then
speak
of
"preferment"
And
"station"
and
the
rest!
Around
this
quiet
courtier
Obsequious
angels
wait!
Full
royal
is
his
retinue,
Full
purple
is
his
state!
A
lord
might
dare
to
lift
the
hat
To
such
a
modest
clay,
Since
that
my
Lord,
"the
Lord
of
lords"
Receives
unashamedly!
A
year
has
passed
this
evening!
I
remember
it
so
clearly.
There
were
no
bells
or
cheers,
As
the
witnesses
will
recount.
Cheerful
as
if
to
the
village,
Calm
as
if
to
rest,
Humbled
as
if
to
the
chapel,
This
modest
traveler
rose.
He
spoke
not
of
returning,
Mentioned
no
time
When,
if
the
winds
were
kind,
We
might
see
him
again;
He
appreciated
the
roses
In
life's
varied
bouquet,
Spoke
gently
of
new
blooms
To
gather
on
another
day.
Thus
enchanting
the
wonder,
The
wondrous
drew
nearer;
Hands
busied
at
the
moorings
—
The
crowd
grew
respectful.
He
ascended
from
our
sight
To
faces
unknown!
A
change,
a
daisy,
Is
all
else
I
knew!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana