by Emily Dickinson
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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < I went to thank her
I wonder if the sepulchre > > >
I wish I knew that woman’s name
I wish I knew that woman’s name,
So, when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears,
For fear I hear her say
She’s ‘sorry I am dead,’ again,
Just when the grave and I
Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, —
Our only lullaby.
< < < I went to thank her
I wonder if the sepulchre > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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