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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 8, Poema 21
XXI.
If
anybody's
friend
is
dead,
It's
hardest
of
the
thoughts
Thinking
how
they
walked
alive,
At
such
and
such
a
time.
Their
clothes,
on
a
Sunday,
Some
way
of
the
hair,
—
A
joke
nobody
knew
but
them,
Lost,
in
the
grave.
How
warm
they
were
on
such
a
day:
You
almost
feel
the
date,
So
close
it
seems;
and
now,
They're
far
from
that.
How
happy
they
were
at
what
you
said;
You
try
to
touch
the
smile,
And
dip
your
fingers
in
the
cold:
When
was
it,
can
you
tell,
You
asked
the
friends
to
tea,
Just
a
few,
And
talked
close
with
this
grand
thing
That
doesn't
remember
you?
Past
bows
and
invitations,
Past
meeting,
and
vow,
Past
what
we
can
understand,
—
That
makes
the
pain!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana