Read the poem: “Trying to Forget”

by Emily Dickinson

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Bereaved of all, I went abroad,

No less bereaved to be

Upon a new peninsula, —

The grave preceded me,

Obtained my lodgings ere myself,

And when I sought my bed,

The grave it was, reposed upon

The pillow for my head.

I waked, to find it first awake,

I rose, — it followed me;

I tried to drop it in the crowd,

To lose it in the sea,

In cups of artificial drowse

To sleep its shape away, —

The grave was finished, but the spade

Remained in memory.

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