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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 3, Poema 29
XXIX.
BECLOUDED.
The
sky
is
low,
the
clouds
are
mean,
A
travelling
flake
of
snow
Across
a
barn
or
through
a
rut
Debates
if
it
will
go.
A
narrow
wind
complains
all
day
How
some
one
treated
him;
Nature,
like
us,
is
sometimes
caught
Without
her
diadem.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana