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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 30
XXX.
THE
WIND'S
VISIT.
The
wind
tapped
like
a
tired
man,
And
like
a
host,
"Come
in,"
I
boldly
answered;
entered
then
My
residence
within
A
rapid,
footless
guest,
To
offer
whom
a
chair
Were
as
impossible
as
hand
A
sofa
to
the
air.
No
bone
had
he
to
bind
him,
His
speech
was
like
the
push
Of
numerous
humming-birds
at
once
From
a
superior
bush.
His
countenance
a
billow,
His
fingers,
if
he
pass,
Let
go
a
music,
as
of
tunes
Blown
tremulous
in
glass.
He
visited,
still
flitting;
Then,
like
a
timid
man,
Again
he
tapped
—
't
was
flurriedly
—
And
I
became
alone.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C2 Inglés | Cuentana