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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 58
LVIII.
RETROSPECT.
'T
was
just
this
time
last
year
I
died.
I
know
I
heard
the
corn,
When
I
was
carried
by
the
farms,
—
It
had
the
tassels
on.
I
thought
how
yellow
it
would
look
When
Richard
went
to
mill;
And
then
I
wanted
to
get
out,
But
something
held
my
will.
I
thought
just
how
red
apples
wedged
The
stubble's
joints
between;
And
carts
went
stooping
round
the
fields
To
take
the
pumpkins
in.
I
wondered
which
would
miss
me
least,
And
when
Thanksgiving
came,
If
father'd
multiply
the
plates
To
make
an
even
sum.
And
if
my
stocking
hung
too
high,
Would
it
blur
the
Christmas
glee,
That
not
a
Santa
Claus
could
reach
The
altitude
of
me?
But
this
sort
grieved
myself,
and
so
I
thought
how
it
would
be
When
just
this
time,
some
perfect
year,
Themselves
should
come
to
me.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana