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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 8, Poema 13
XIII.
MEMORIALS.
Death
makes
a
thing
important
The
eye
had
passed
by,
Except
a
lost
creature
Asks
us
gently
To
think
of
little
works
In
crayon
or
in
wool,
With
"This
was
last
her
fingers
did,"
Busy
until
The
thimble
was
too
heavy,
The
stitches
stopped
themselves,
And
then
it
was
put
with
the
dust
On
the
closet
shelves.
A
book
I
have,
a
friend
gave,
Whose
pencil,
here
and
there,
Had
marked
the
place
he
liked,
—
At
rest
his
fingers
are.
Now,
when
I
read,
I
do
not
read,
For
tears
interrupt
And
erase
the
marks
Too
precious
to
fix.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana