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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 35
XXXIX.
SUNSET.
Purple
ships
move
softly
On
yellow
seas,
Strange
sailors
meet,
And
then
the
dock
is
quiet.
She
cleans
with
colorful
brooms,
And
leaves
pieces
behind;
Oh,
housewife
in
the
evening
sky,
Come
back
and
clean
the
pond!
You
dropped
a
purple
string
in,
You
dropped
an
amber
thread;
Now
you
have
covered
all
the
East
With
green
clothes!
And
still
she
uses
her
brooms,
And
still
the
aprons
fly,
Till
brooms
turn
softly
into
stars
—
And
then
I
walk
away.
The
red
light
shone
bright
At
the
bottom
of
trees
—
The
day's
big
show
Showing
to
these.
The
universe
clapped
loud
While,
in
the
crowd,
I
wore
a
royal
dress,
And
felt
like
God.
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