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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 58
LVIII.
RETROSPECT.
It
was
this
time
last
year
I
died.
I
hear
the
corn,
When
I
was
carried
by
the
farms,
—
It
had
tassels
on.
I
think
how
yellow
it
looks
When
Richard
goes
to
mill;
And
then
I
want
to
get
out,
But
something
holds
me.
I
think
how
red
apples
sit
Between
the
fields;
And
carts
go
round
the
fields
To
take
the
pumpkins
in.
I
wonder
who
will
miss
me
least,
And
when
Thanksgiving
comes,
If
father
adds
more
plates
To
make
it
right.
And
if
my
stocking
hangs
too
high,
Will
it
spoil
the
Christmas
joy,
That
no
Santa
Claus
can
reach
Where
I
am?
But
this
makes
me
sad,
and
so
I
think
how
it
will
be
When
this
time,
some
perfect
year,
They
come
to
me.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A1 Inglés | Cuentana