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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 52
LII.
To
learn
joy
by
the
pain,
As
blind
men
learn
the
sun;
To
die
of
thirst,
thinking
That
brooks
in
fields
run;
To
stop
homesick
feet
On
a
foreign
shore
Haunted
by
home
lands,
the
while,
And
blue,
loved
air
—
This
is
the
great
pain,
This,
the
big
woe!
These
are
the
patient
winners
Whose
voices,
trained
below,
Rise
in
endless
song,
Inaudible,
indeed,
To
us,
the
slower
learners
Of
the
mysterious
bard!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana