quarta-feira, 7 de abril de 2010

A light exists in Spring
Not present on the year
At any other period
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That science can not overtake
But human nature feel

It waits open the lawn
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know
It almost speeks to me

-Emily Dickinson-

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