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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 30
XXX.
THE
WIND'S
VISIT.
The
wind
tapped
like
a
weary
man,
And
like
a
host,
"Come
in,"
I
boldly
answered;
then
it
entered
My
home
within
A
swift,
footless
guest,
To
offer
whom
a
chair
Was
as
impossible
as
handing
A
sofa
to
the
air.
He
had
no
bones
to
bind
him,
His
speech
was
like
the
rush
Of
many
hummingbirds
at
once
From
a
higher
bush.
His
face
was
like
a
wave,
His
fingers,
if
he
passed,
Released
a
music,
like
tunes
Blown
in
glass.
He
visited,
still
moving;
Then,
like
a
shy
man,
He
tapped
again
—
hurriedly
—
And
I
was
alone.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B2 Inglés | Cuentana