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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 45
XLV.
As
imperceptibly
as
grief
The
summer
slipped
away,
—
Too
subtle,
at
last,
To
seem
like
betrayal.
A
quietness
distilled,
As
twilight
long
begun,
Or
Nature,
spending
with
herself
A
secluded
afternoon.
The
dusk
came
earlier,
The
morning
shone
different,
—
A
polite,
yet
troubling
grace,
Like
a
guest
who
would
leave.
And
so,
without
a
wing,
Or
use
of
a
boat,
Our
summer
quietly
left
Into
the
beautiful.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B2 Inglés | Cuentana