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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 5
V.
TO
MARCH.
Dear
March,
come
in!
I'm
so
glad!
I
looked
for
you
before.
Put
down
your
hat
—
You
must
have
walked
far
—
You're
out
of
breath,
I
see!
Dear
March,
how
are
you?
And
the
rest?
Is
Nature
doing
well?
Oh,
March,
come
up
with
me,
I
have
so
much
to
tell!
I
got
your
letter,
and
the
birds';
The
maples
didn't
know
You
were
coming,
—
I
swear,
Their
faces
turned
red!
But,
March,
forgive
me
—
And
all
those
hills
You
left
for
me
to
paint;
There
was
no
purple
left,
You
took
it
all
away.
Who
knocks?
That
April!
Lock
the
door!
I
will
not
be
chased!
He
stayed
away
a
year,
to
call
When
I'm
busy
here.
But
small
things
look
so
small
When
you
are
here,
That
blame
is
like
praise
And
praise
is
just
the
same.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana