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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 3, Poema 27
XXVII.
THE
CHARIOT.
Because
I
could
not
stop
for
Death,
He
kindly
stopped
for
me;
The
carriage
held
just
us
And
forever.
We
drove
slow,
he
knew
no
hurry,
And
I
put
away
My
work,
and
my
rest
too,
For
his
kindness.
We
passed
the
school
where
kids
played,
Their
lessons
not
done;
We
passed
the
fields
with
grain,
We
passed
the
setting
sun.
We
stopped
at
a
house
that
seemed
A
bump
in
the
ground;
The
roof
was
hard
to
see,
The
edge
just
a
mound.
Since
then
it's
years;
but
each
Feels
shorter
than
the
day
I
first
thought
the
horses'
heads
Were
toward
forever.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A1 Inglés | Cuentana