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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 22
XXII.
THE
BAT.
The
bat
is
dark
with
wrinkled
wings
Like
old
things,
And
not
a
song
is
in
his
mouth,
Or
none
we
can
hear.
His
small
umbrella,
cut
in
half,
Moves
in
the
air
An
arc
we
can't
understand,
—
A
wise
creature!
Sent
from
what
sky
Or
smart
home,
With
what
power
Kindly
kept
away.
To
his
smart
Creator
Give
no
less
the
praise;
Kind,
believe
me,
His
odd
ways.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana