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
We should not mind so small a flower -
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the Lawn again.
So spicy her Carnations nod -
So drunken, reel her Bees -
So silver steal a hundred flutes
From out a hundred trees -

That whose sees this little flower
By faith may clear behold
The Bobolinks around the throne
And Dandelions gold.
Emily Dickinson
Vota la poesia: Commenta
    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
    Going to Heaven!
    I dont know when -
    Pray do not ask me how!
    Indeed I'm too astonished
    To think of answering you!
    Going to Heaven!
    How dim it sounds!
    And yet it will be done
    As sure as flocks go home at night
    Unto the Shepherd's arm!
    Perhaps you're going too!
    Who knows?
    If you sh'd get there first
    Save just a little space for me
    Close to the two I lost -
    The smallest "Robe" will fit me
    And just a bit of "Crown" -
    For you know we do not mind our dress
    When we are going home -

    I'm glad I dont believe it
    For it w'd stop my breath -
    And I'd like to look a little more
    At such a curious Earth!
    I am glad they did believe it
    Whom I have never found
    Since the mighty autumn afternoon
    I left them in the ground.
    Emily Dickinson
    Vota la poesia: Commenta
      Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
      A poor - torn heart - a tattered heart -
      That sat it down to rest -
      Nor noticed that the ebbing Day
      Flowed silver to the west -
      Nor noticed Night did soft descend -
      Nor Constellation burn -
      Intent upon the vision
      Of latitudes unknown.
      The angels - happening that way
      This dusty heart espied -
      Tenderly took it up from toil
      And carried it to God -
      There - sandals for the Barefoot -
      There - gathered from the gales -
      Do the blue havens by the hand
      Lead the wandering Sails.
      Emily Dickinson
      Vota la poesia: Commenta
        Questo sito contribuisce alla audience di