Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

Emily Dickinson

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!

Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson | Written c. 1859

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