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Cargando... The Selected Poems of Emily Dickinson [Wordsworth Poetry Library]por Emily Dickinson
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Inscríbete en LibraryThing para averiguar si este libro te gustará. Actualmente no hay Conversaciones sobre este libro. (p. 133) Out of the morning Will there really be a morning? Is there such a thing as day? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they? Has it feet like water-lilies? Has it feathers like a bird? Is it brought from famous countries Of which I have never heard? Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor! Oh, some wise men from the skies! Please to tell a little pilgrim Where the place called morning lies! sin reseñas | añadir una reseña
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With an Introduction by Emma Hartnoll. Initially a vivacious, outgoing person, Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) progressively withdrew into a reclusive existence. An undiscovered genius during her lifetime, only seven out of her total of 1,775 poems were published prior to her death. She had an immense breadth of vision and a passionate intensity and awe for life, love, nature, time and eternity. Originally branded an eccentric, Emily Dickinson is now recognised as a major poet of great depth, startling originality and courage for as she wrote: 'Assent and you are sane; /Demure you're straightaway dangerous / And handled with a chain'. No se han encontrado descripciones de biblioteca. |
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Google Books — Cargando... GénerosSistema Decimal Melvil (DDC)811Literature English (North America) American poetryClasificación de la Biblioteca del CongresoValoraciónPromedio:
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I didn’t get to read them all, since someone else had reserved this library book, so I wasn’t permitted to renew it.
The poet avails herself of a rich vocabulary, and writes poems about nature, love, life, time and eternity, and death.
Here is one I understood, perhaps the only one:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Here is another:
Beclouded
The sky is low, the clouds are mean,
A travelling flake of snow
Across a barn or through a rut
Debates if it will go.
A narrow wind complains all day
How some one treated him;
Nature, like us, is sometimes caught without her diadem. ( )