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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 48
XLVIII.
Unto
my
books
so
good
to
turn
Far
ends
of
tired
days;
It
half
endears
the
abstinence,
And
pain
is
missed
in
praise.
As
flavors
cheer
retarded
guests
With
banquetings
to
be,
So
spices
stimulate
the
time
Till
my
small
library.
It
may
be
wilderness
without,
Far
feet
of
failing
men,
But
holiday
excludes
the
night,
And
it
is
bells
within.
I
thank
these
kinsmen
of
the
shelf;
Their
countenances
bland
Enamour
in
prospective,
And
satisfy,
obtained.
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