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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 42
XLIX.
NOVEMBER.
The
autumn
poets
sing
about
this
time,
A
few
simple
days,
A
little
before
the
snow
comes
And
after
the
mist.
A
few
sharp
mornings,
A
few
serious
eyes,
—
Mr.
Bryant's
golden
flowers
are
gone,
And
Mr.
Thomson's
harvest
is
over.
The
brook
is
quiet
now,
The
spicy
plants
are
closed;
Gentle
fingers
softly
touch
The
eyes
of
many
little
creatures.
Maybe
a
squirrel
stays,
To
share
my
thoughts.
Give
me,
O
Lord,
a
happy
mind,
To
handle
your
windy
plans!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana