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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 12
XII.
How
dare
the
birds
sing,
When
people
hear
Who
since
they
went
to
their
account
Have
settled
with
the
year!
—
Paid
all
that
life
had
earned
In
one
big
bill,
And
now,
what
life
or
death
can
do
Does
not
matter.
The
sun
is
rude
To
him
whose
light,
Taken
from
forever,
Leaves
him
to
night.
For
him
Quiet
be
every
sound,
Whose
garden
fights
with
the
dew,
At
morning
done!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A1 Inglés | Cuentana