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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 8, Poema 21
XXI.
If
anybody's
friend
is
dead,
It's
sharpest
to
think
How
they
walked
alive,
At
such
and
such
a
time.
Their
clothes,
on
a
Sunday,
The
way
they
wore
their
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
ages
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
invited
them
for
tea,
Friends,
just
a
few,
And
chatted
closely
with
this
grand
thing
That
doesn't
remember
you?
Past
greetings
and
invitations,
Past
meetings,
and
promises,
Past
what
we
can
measure,
—
That
makes
the
pain
so
sharp!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana