Emily Dickinson

What Shall I Do it Whimpers So

poem 186

What shall I do it whimpers so This little Hound within the Heart All day and night with bark and start And yet, it will not go Would you untie it, were you me Would it stop whining if to Thee I sent it even now? It should not tease you By your chair or, on the mat Or if it dare to climb your dizzy knee Or sometimes at your side to run When you were willing Shall it come? Tell Carlo He’ll tell me!

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