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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 2, Poema 27
XXVII.
INDIAN
SUMMER.
These
are
the
days
when
birds
come
back,
A
few,
a
bird
or
two,
To
look
again.
These
are
the
days
when
skies
wear
The
old
look
of
June,
—
A
blue
and
gold
mistake.
Oh,
trick
that
cannot
fool
the
bee,
Almost
your
look
Makes
me
believe,
Till
seeds
show
their
truth,
And
softly
through
the
air
A
leaf
moves!
Oh,
holy
summer
days,
Oh,
last
time
in
the
haze,
Let
a
child
join,
To
take
your
holy
things,
To
break
your
bread,
Taste
your
wine!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A1 Inglés | Cuentana