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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 38
XXXVIII.
DEAD.
There's
something
quieter
than
sleep
Within
this
room!
It
wears
a
flower
on
its
chest,
And
will
not
tell
its
name.
Some
touch
it
and
some
kiss
it,
Some
rub
its
still
hand;
It
has
a
simple
weight
I
do
not
understand!
While
simple-hearted
neighbors
Talk
of
the
'early
dead,'
We,
prone
to
long
words,
Remark
that
birds
have
left!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana