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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 3, Poema 30
XXX.
THE
HEMLOCK.
I
think
the
hemlock
likes
to
stand
On
the
edge
of
snow;
It
suits
his
own
harshness,
And
fills
an
awe
we
know
That
people
must
satisfy
In
wilderness
or
desert,
A
need
for
the
old
and
bare,
The
north's
comfort.
The
hemlock
thrives
in
cold;
The
bite
of
northern
winds
Is
sweetest
food
to
him,
His
best
northern
wines.
To
delicate
races
he
means
nothing;
But
children
on
the
Don
Play
under
his
branches,
And
Dnieper
runners
run.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana