A little bread—a crust—a crumb—, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

A little bread—a crust—a crumb—

159

A little bread—a crust—a crumb—

A little trust—a demijohn—

Can keep the soul alive—

Not portly, mind! but breathing—warm—

Conscious—as old Napoleon,

The night before the Crown!

A modest lot—A fame petite—

A brief Campaign of sting and sweet

Is plenty! Is enough!

A Sailor’s business is the shore!

A Soldier’s—balls! Who asketh more,

Must seek the neighboring life!

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Emily Dickinson

A little bread—a crust—a crumb—

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