 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
123
[XIV. I went to thank her]
I went to thank her,
But she slept;
Her bed a funnelled stone,
With nosegays at the head and foot,
That travellers had thrown,
But she slept;
Her bed a funnelled stone,
With nosegays at the head and foot,
That travellers had thrown,
Who went to thank her;
But she slept.
'T was short to cross the sea
To look upon her like, alive,
But turning back 't was slow.
But she slept.
'T was short to cross the sea
To look upon her like, alive,
But turning back 't was slow.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |