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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 30
XXX.
I
felt
a
funeral
in
my
brain,
And
mourners,
to
and
fro,
Kept
treading,
treading,
till
it
seemed
That
sense
was
breaking
through.
And
when
they
all
were
seated,
A
service
like
a
drum
Kept
beating,
beating,
till
I
thought
My
mind
was
going
numb.
And
then
I
heard
them
lift
a
box,
And
creak
across
my
soul
With
those
same
boots
of
lead,
again.
Then
space
began
to
toll
As
all
the
heavens
were
a
bell,
And
Being
but
an
ear,
And
I
and
silence
some
strange
race,
Wrecked,
solitary,
here.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana