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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 15
XV.
Their
height
in
heaven
comforts
not,
Their
glory
not
to
me;
It
was
best
not
perfect,
as
it
was;
I
am
small,
I
can't
see.
The
house
of
maybe,
The
shining
edge
That
skirts
the
land
of
perhaps,
To
me
shows
unsure.
The
wealth
I
had
pleased
me;
If
it
was
a
smaller
size,
Then
I
had
counted
it
until
It
pleased
my
small
eyes.
Better
than
bigger
things,
However
true
they
seem;
This
shy
life
of
proof
Keeps
saying,
"I
don't
know."
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