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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 17
XVII.
A
dew
sufficed
itself
And
satisfied
a
leaf,
And
felt,
'how
vast
a
destiny!
How
trivial
is
life!'
The
sun
went
out
to
work,
The
day
went
out
to
play,
But
not
again
that
dew
was
seen
By
physiognomy.
Whether
by
day
abducted,
Or
emptied
by
the
sun
Into
the
sea,
in
passing,
Eternally
unknown.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana