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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 54
LIV.
CHARLOTTE
BRONTË'S
GRAVE.
All
overgrown
by
cunning
moss,
All
interspersed
with
weed,
The
little
cage
of
'Currer
Bell,'
In
quiet
Haworth
laid.
This
bird,
observing
others,
When
frosts
too
sharp
became,
Retire
to
other
latitudes,
Quietly
did
the
same,
But
differed
in
returning;
Since
Yorkshire
hills
are
green,
Yet
not
in
all
the
nests
I
meet
Can
nightingale
be
seen.
Gathered
from
many
wanderings,
Gethsemane
can
tell
Through
what
transporting
anguish
She
reached
the
asphodel!
Soft
fall
the
sounds
of
Eden
Upon
her
puzzled
ear;
Oh,
what
an
afternoon
for
heaven,
When
'Brontë'
entered
there!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana