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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 6, Poema 27
The
one
who
can
make
a
summer
day
Is
greater
than
the
day
itself
Even
if
he
is
a
small
man.
And
who
can
make
the
sun
again
When
it
goes
down
in
the
sky
—
The
colors
and
the
light,
I
mean
—
When
the
east
is
gone,
And
the
west
is
dark,
His
name
stays.
The
wind
knocks
like
a
tired
man
I
say,
"Come
in,"
and
it
comes
The
wind
is
fast
but
has
no
feet
I
cannot
give
it
a
chair
It
is
like
trying
to
hold
air
The
wind
has
no
bones
Its
voice
is
like
many
birds
They
all
sing
from
a
big
tree
The
wind's
face
is
like
a
wave
Its
fingers
make
music
The
music
is
soft
and
light
The
wind
stays,
then
flies
away
It
knocks
again,
like
a
shy
man
Then
it
goes,
and
I
am
alone
Nature
uses
yellow
less
Than
other
colors
She
saves
yellow
for
sunsets
And
uses
blue
a
lot
She
spends
red
like
a
woman
Yellow
is
rare
and
special
Like
a
lover's
words
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A1 Inglés | Cuentana