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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 8, Poema 12
XII.
As
by
the
dead
we
love
to
sit,
They
become
so
dear,
As
for
the
lost
we
reach,
Though
others
are
near,
—
In
broken
math
We
count
our
prize,
Big,
in
its
fading
size,
To
our
poor
eyes!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana