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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 21
XXI.
THE
MOON.
The
moon
was
a
chin
of
gold
A
night
or
two
ago,
And
now
she
shows
her
perfect
face
On
the
world
below.
Her
forehead
is
wide
and
bright;
Her
cheek
like
a
stone;
Her
eye
to
the
summer
dew
The
best
I
have
known.
Her
lips
of
amber
never
part;
But
what
must
be
the
smile
On
her
friend
she
could
show
If
she
wanted
to!
And
what
a
privilege
to
be
The
farthest
star!
For
surely
her
way
might
pass
By
your
twinkling
door.
Her
hat
is
the
sky,
The
universe
her
shoe,
The
stars
the
jewels
at
her
belt,
Her
dress
is
blue.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana