EN + ES
Escuchar
103
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 4, Poema 27
XXVII.
THE
CHARIOT.
Because
I
could
not
stop
for
Death,
He
kindly
stopped
for
me;
The
carriage
held
but
just
ourselves
And
Immortality.
We
slowly
drove,
he
knew
no
haste,
And
I
had
put
away
My
labor,
and
my
leisure
too,
For
his
civility.
We
passed
the
school
where
children
played,
Their
lessons
scarcely
done;
We
passed
the
fields
of
gazing
grain,
We
passed
the
setting
sun.
We
paused
before
a
house
that
seemed
A
swelling
of
the
ground;
The
roof
was
scarcely
visible,
The
cornice
but
a
mound.
Since
then
't
is
centuries;
but
each
Feels
shorter
than
the
day
I
first
surmised
the
horses'
heads
Were
toward
eternity.
||
||
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana