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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 50
L.
HUNGER.
I
was
hungry
all
these
years;
My
time
came
to
eat;
I,
shaking,
pulled
the
table
near,
And
touched
the
strange
wine.
I
saw
this
on
tables,
When
turning,
hungry,
alone,
I
looked
in
windows,
for
the
wealth
I
could
not
hope
to
own.
I
did
not
know
the
big
bread,
It
was
not
like
the
crumb
The
birds
and
I
often
shared
In
Nature's
dining-room.
The
plenty
hurt
me,
it
was
so
new,
—
I
felt
sick
and
strange,
Like
a
berry
from
a
mountain
bush
Moved
to
the
road.
I
was
not
hungry;
I
found
Hunger
was
a
way
For
people
outside
windows,
The
entering
takes
away.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana