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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 44
XLIV.
If
I
may
have
it
when
it's
gone
I
will
happy
be;
If
just
as
soon
as
breath
is
out
It
shall
be
mine,
Until
they
lock
it
in
the
grave,
It's
joy
I
cannot
weigh,
For
though
they
lock
you
in
the
grave,
I
can
hold
the
key.
Think
of
it,
love!
I
and
you
Allowed
face
to
face
to
be;
After
a
life,
a
death
we'll
say,
—
For
death
was
that,
and
this
is
you.
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