Nothing New

Classic writing, modern delivery

Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 415 of 446 · Third Series: Time and Eternity

Poem 28

— ✻ —

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.

Receive Emily Dickinson one poem at a time, on your schedule.
Subscribe →