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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 6, Poema 26
XXVI.
THE
STORM.
A
strong
wind
comes
like
a
horn;
It
moves
through
the
grass,
And
a
cold
feeling
in
the
heat
So
scary
it
feels.
We
close
the
windows
and
doors
Like
from
a
green
ghost;
The
storm's
fast
shoes
Pass
right
then.
Trees
move
like
a
crowd,
And
fences
run
away,
And
rivers
where
houses
go
People
watch
that
day.
The
bell
in
the
tower
rings
The
news
flies
around.
So
much
can
come
And
much
can
go,
But
the
world
stays!
The
spider
works
at
night
It
has
no
light
It
spins
a
web
of
white
Is
it
a
lady's
collar
Or
for
a
small
creature
Only
the
spider
knows
It
wants
to
live
forever
Its
plan
is
clever
It
shows
in
its
face
I
know
a
place
with
summer
It
tries
hard
but
there
is
frost
Every
year
she
brings
daisies
And
says,
"We
lost."
But
when
the
warm
wind
comes
And
moves
in
the
roads
She
feels
sad
about
her
promise
And
sings
soft
songs
Into
the
lap
of
hard
stone
With
spices
and
dew
That
turns
to
hard
rock
On
her
yellow
shoe
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