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Poesie di Emily Dickinson

Poetessa, nato venerdì 10 dicembre 1830 a Amherst, Massachusetts (Stati Uniti d'America), morto sabato 15 maggio 1886 a Amherst, Massachusetts (Stati Uniti d'America)
Questo autore lo trovi anche in Frasi & Aforismi e in Proverbi.

Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
I had a guinea golden -
I lost it in the sand -
And thò the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land -
Still, had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye -
That when I could not find it -
I sat me down to sigh.
I had a crimson Robin -
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted -
He - too - did fly away -
Time brought me other Robins -
Their ballads were the same -
Still, for my missing Troubadour
I kept the "house at hame".

I had a star in heaven -
One "Pleiad" was it's name -
And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same -
And thò the skies are crowded -
And all the night ashine -
I do not care about it -
Since none of them are mine -

My story has a moral -
I have a missing friend -
"Pleiad" it's name -and Robin -
And guinea in the sand -
And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with tear -
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here -
Grant that repentance solemn
May seize upon his mind -
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.
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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    All these my banners be.
    I sow my pageantry
    In May -
    It rises train by train -
    Then sleeps in state again -
    My chancel - all the plain
    To lose - if One can find again -
    To miss - if One shall meet -
    The Burglar cannot rob - then -
    The Broker cannot cheat.
    So build the hillocks gaily
    Thou little spade of mine
    Leaving nooks for Daisy
    And for Columbine -
    You and I the secret
    Of the Crocus know -
    Let us chant it softly -
    "There is no more snow!"

    To him who keeps an Orchis' heart -
    The swamps are pink with June
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      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      Distrustful of the Gentian -
      And just to turn away,
      The fluttering of her fringes
      Chid my perfidy -
      Weary for my ——
      I will singing go -
      I shall not feel the sleet - then -
      I shall not fear the snow.
      Flees so the phantom meadow
      Before the breathless Bee -
      So bubble brooks in deserts
      On ears that dying lie -
      Burn so the evening spires
      To eyes that Closing go -
      Hangs so distant Heaven -
      To a hand below
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