Emily Dickinson

Where I Have Lost, I Softer Tread

poem 104

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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