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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 24
XXIV.
GOING.
On
such
a
night,
or
such
a
night,
Would
anybody
care
If
such
a
small
figure
Slipped
quiet
from
its
chair,
So
quiet,
oh,
how
quiet!
That
nobody
might
know
But
that
the
small
figure
Rocked
softer,
to
and
fro?
On
such
a
dawn,
or
such
a
dawn,
Would
anybody
sigh
That
such
a
small
figure
Too
sound
asleep
did
lie
For
rooster
to
wake
it,
—
Or
busy
house
below,
Or
happy
bird
in
tree,
Or
early
task
to
do?
There
was
a
small
figure
round
For
every
small
hill,
Busy
needles,
and
spools
of
thread,
And
walking
feet
from
school.
Friends,
and
holidays,
and
nuts,
And
dreams
big
and
small.
Strange
that
the
feet
so
full
of
charge
Should
reach
so
small
a
goal!
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