Emily Dickinson

I Was The Slightest In The House

poem 486

I was the slightest in the House I took the smallest Room At night, my little Lamp, and Book And one Geranium So stationed I could catch the Mint That never ceased to fall And just my Basket Let me think I’m sure That this was all I never spoke unless addressed And then, ’twas brief and low I could not bear to live aloud The Racket shamed me so And if it had not been so far And any one I knew Were going I had often thought How noteless I could die

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