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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 17
XVII.
THE
RAILWAY
TRAIN.
I
like
to
see
it
cover
the
miles,
And
swallow
the
valleys,
And
stop
to
refill
at
tanks;
And
then,
huge,
step
Around
a
pile
of
mountains,
And,
proud,
peer
Into
shanties
by
the
roads;
And
then
cut
a
quarry
To
fit
its
sides,
and
crawl
through,
Complaining
all
the
while
In
loud,
hooting
verses;
Then
chase
itself
downhill
And
neigh
like
a
horse;
Then,
as
punctual
as
a
star,
Stop—obedient
and
powerful—
At
its
own
stable
door.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana