Poemas a la muerte

Poemas a la muerte

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1296

Death’s Waylaying not the sharpest

Of the thefts of Time —

There Marauds a sorer Robber,

Silence — is his name —

No Assault, nor any Menace

Doth betoken him.

But from Life’s consummate Cluster —

He supplants the Balm.

â—„




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