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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 1, Poema 15
XV.
THE
LONELY
HOUSE.
I
know
lonely
houses
off
the
road
A
robber
would
like,
—
Wooden
bars,
And
low
windows,
Inviting
to
A
porch,
Where
two
can
creep:
One
holds
tools,
The
other
looks
To
see
if
all
sleep.
Old
eyes,
Not
easy
to
surprise!
How
neat
the
kitchen
looks
at
night,
With
just
a
clock,
—
But
they
can
stop
the
tick,
And
mice
don't
bark;
So
the
walls
don't
tell,
None
will.
A
pair
of
glasses
move
—
An
almanac
knows.
Did
the
mat
wink,
Or
a
star
tremble?
The
moon
comes
down
To
see
who's
there.
There
is
treasure,
—
where?
Cup,
or
spoon,
Earring,
or
stone,
A
watch,
an
old
brooch
To
match
grandma,
Sleeping
there.
Day
comes,
Stealth
goes;
The
sun
is
at
The
third
tree.
Rooster
screams,
Who's
there?
And
echoes
say,
Where?
While
the
old
couple,
awake,
Think
the
sun
left
the
door
open!
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