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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
up,
And
stop
to
feed
at
tanks;
And
then,
grand,
step
Around
a
pile
of
mountains,
And,
arrogantly,
peer
In
shanties
by
the
roads;
And
then
a
quarry
pare
To
fit
its
sides,
and
crawl
between,
Complaining
all
the
while
In
horrid,
hooting
stanza;
Then
chase
itself
downhill
And
neigh
like
thunder;
Then,
punctual
as
a
star,
Stop—obedient
and
mighty—
At
its
own
stable
door.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B2 Inglés | Cuentana