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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 2
II.
I
bring
an
unaccustomed
wine
To
lips
long
parching,
next
to
mine,
And
summon
them
to
drink.
Crackling
with
fever,
they
essay;
I
turn
my
brimming
eyes
away,
And
come
next
hour
to
look.
The
hands
still
hug
the
tardy
glass;
The
lips
I
would
have
cooled,
alas!
Are
so
superfluous
cold,
I
would
as
soon
attempt
to
warm
The
bosoms
where
the
frost
has
lain
Ages
beneath
the
mould.
Some
other
thirsty
there
may
be
To
whom
this
would
have
pointed
me
Had
it
remained
to
speak.
And
so
I
always
bear
the
cup
If,
haply,
mine
may
be
the
drop
Some
pilgrim
thirst
to
slake,
—
If,
haply,
any
say
to
me,
Unto
the
little,
unto
me,
When
I
at
last
awake.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana