Τετάρτη, 10 Ιουλίου 2019















LXIII




A something in a summer's day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer's noon-
A depth-an Azure-a perfume
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see-

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lest such a subtle-shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me-

The wizard fingers never rest-
The purple brook within the breast,
Still chafes its narrow bed-

Still rears the East her amber flag-
Guides still the sun along the crag
His caravan of red-

Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize,
Awaited their low brows;

Or bees, that thought the summer's name
Some rumor of delirium
No summer could for them;

Οr Arctic creature, dimly stirred
By tropic hint,-some travelled bird
Imported to the wood;

Or wind's bright signal to the ear,
Making that homely and severe,
Contented, known, before

The heaven unexpected came,
To lives that thought their worshipping,
A too presumptuous psalm.




Emily Dickinson



LXIII  Part Two : Nature
Complete Poems 1924 by Emily Dickinson