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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 28
XXVIII.
THE
COMING
OF
NIGHT.
How
the
old
mountains
glow
with
sunset,
And
the
dark
comes!
How
the
hemlocks
shine
By
the
magic
sun!
How
the
old
steeples
hold
the
red,
Till
the
ball
is
full,
—
Have
I
the
lip
of
the
flamingo
To
dare
to
tell?
Then,
how
the
fire
moves
like
waves,
Touching
all
the
grass
With
a
leaving,
blue
touch,
As
if
a
duchess
passed!
How
a
small
dark
comes
on
the
village
Till
the
houses
fade;
And
the
odd
lights
no
men
carry
Shine
on
the
spot!
Now
it
is
night
in
nest
and
home,
And
where
was
the
wood,
Just
a
dome
of
dark
is
nodding
Into
quiet!
—
These
are
the
sights
baffled
Guido;
Titian
never
told;
Domenichino
dropped
the
pen,
Unable
to
show.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana