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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 3, Poema 29
XXIX.
BECLOUDED.
The
sky
is
low,
the
clouds
are
gray,
A
snowflake
travels
slow
Across
a
barn
or
through
a
rut
Deciding
where
to
go.
A
narrow
wind
complains
all
day
About
how
it
was
treated;
Nature,
like
us,
is
sometimes
found
Without
her
crown
seated.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana