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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 22
XXII.
THE
BAT.
The
bat
is
dark
with
wrinkled
wings
Like
autumn's
article,
And
not
a
song
escapes
his
lips,
Or
none
perceptible.
His
small
umbrella,
quaintly
split,
Describing
in
the
air
An
arc
so
mysterious,
—
Joyful
philosopher!
Sent
from
what
heaven
Of
what
wise
abode,
Given
what
intent
Auspiciously
withheld.
To
his
clever
Creator
Ascribe
no
less
the
praise;
Kind-hearted,
believe
me,
His
oddities.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B2 Inglés | Cuentana