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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
humming-birds
aspire.
And
whatsoever
insect
pass,
A
honey
bears
away
Proportioned
to
his
several
dearth
And
her
capacity.
Her
face
is
rounder
than
the
moon,
And
ruddier
than
the
gown
Of
orchis
in
the
pasture,
Or
rhododendron
worn.
She
doth
not
wait
for
June;
Before
the
world
is
green
Her
sturdy
little
countenance
Against
the
wind
is
seen,
Contending
with
the
grass,
Near
kinsman
to
herself,
For
privilege
of
sod
and
sun,
Sweet
litigants
for
life.
And
when
the
hills
are
full,
And
newer
fashions
blow,
Doth
not
retract
a
single
spice
For
pang
of
jealousy.
Her
public
is
the
noon,
Her
providence
the
sun,
Her
progress
by
the
bee
proclaimed
In
sovereign,
swerveless
tune.
The
bravest
of
the
host,
Surrendering
the
last,
Nor
even
of
defeat
aware
When
cancelled
by
the
frost.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana