Emily Dickinson - Where I have lost, I softer tread
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Where I have lost, I softer tread -- I sow sweet flower from garden bed -- I pause above that vanished head And mourn. Whom I have lost, I pious guard From accent harsh, or ruthless word -- Feeling as if their pillow heard, Though stone! When I have lost, you'll know by this -- A Bonnet black -- A dusk surplice -- A little tremor in my voice Like this! Why, I have lost, the people know Who dressed in flocks of purest snow Went home a century ago Next Bliss! |
