Emily Dickinson Poems

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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!

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