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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 34
XXXIV.
Superfluous
were
the
sun
When
excellence
is
dead;
He
were
superfluous
every
day,
For
every
day
is
said
That
word
of
faith
Just
saves
it
from
despair,
And
whose
'I'll
meet
you'
hesitates
If
love
inquires,
'Where?'
Upon
his
dateless
fame
Our
periods
may
rest,
As
stars
that
fall
without
a
name
From
an
abundant
sky.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana