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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 8, Poema 24
XXXIII.
GRIEFS.
I
see
every
sadness
I
meet
With
careful
eyes;
I
wonder
if
it
feels
like
mine,
Or
is
it
easier.
I
wonder
if
it
is
old,
Or
did
it
just
start?
I
cannot
know
when
mine
began,
It
feels
old
and
deep.
I
wonder
if
life
hurts,
And
if
they
try
hard,
And
if
they
can
choose,
Would
they
want
to
die?
I
wonder
if
many
years
Can
make
the
hurt
stop,
Or
does
it
stay
and
grow
With
time
and
love.
Many
people
are
sad,
I
hear;
The
reason
is
deep,
—
Death
comes
once,
And
closes
the
eyes.
There
is
sadness
from
need,
and
cold,
—
Some
call
it
'despair;'
There
is
leaving
home,
But
seeing
home
air.
And
though
I
may
not
know
The
kind
of
sadness
right,
It
comforts
me
When
I
pass
Calvary,
To
see
the
crosses,
Of
those
who
stand
alone,
I
think
some
are
like
mine,
And
it
helps
me.
I
have
a
king.
He
does
not
talk.
I
walk
and
think
all
day.
I
feel
happy
at
night.
I
hope
to
dream.
I
want
to
see
rooms
closed
in
day.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A1 Inglés | Cuentana