A Reed

Elizabeth Barrett Browning(1806–1861)

1850

I AM no trumpet, but a reed:No flattering breath shall from me leadA silver sound, a hollow sound!I will not ring, for priest or king,One blast that, in re-echoing,Would leave a bondsman faster bound.

I am no trumpet, but a reed,—A broken reed, the wind indeedLeft flat upon a dismal shore:Yet if a little maid, or child,Should sigh within it, earnest-mild,This reed will answer evermore.

I am no trumpet, but a reed:Go, tell the fishers, as they spreadTheir nets along the river's edge,—I will not tear their nets at all,Nor pierce their hands—if they should fall:Then let them leave me in the sedge.

De Prometheus Bound, and Other Poems, a partir de la transcripción de Wikisource en inglés.

Dominio públicoEste poema está en el dominio público. Puedes leerlo, copiarlo, recitarlo y publicarlo sin pedir permiso a nadie.