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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 23
XXIII.
A
poor
torn
heart,
a
tattered
heart,
That
sat
it
down
to
rest,
Nor
noticed
that
the
ebbing
day
Flowed
silver
to
the
west,
Nor
noticed
night
did
soft
descend
Nor
constellation
burn,
Intent
upon
the
vision
Of
latitudes
unknown.
The
angels,
happening
that
way,
This
dusty
heart
espied;
Tenderly
took
it
up
from
toil
And
carried
it
to
God.
There,
—
sandals
for
the
barefoot;
There,
—
gathered
from
the
gales,
Do
the
blue
havens
by
the
hand
Lead
the
wandering
sails.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana