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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 7
VII.
THE
WHITE
HEAT.
Dare
you
see
a
soul
at
the
white
heat?
Then
crouch
within
the
door.
Red
is
the
fire's
common
tint;
But
when
the
vivid
ore
Has
sated
flame's
conditions,
Its
quivering
substance
plays
Without
a
color
but
the
light
Of
unanointed
blaze.
Least
village
boasts
its
blacksmith,
Whose
anvil's
even
din
Stands
symbol
for
the
finer
forge
That
soundless
tugs
within,
Refining
these
impatient
ores
With
hammer
and
with
blaze,
Until
the
designated
light
Repudiate
the
forge.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana