The Poems of Emily Dickinson, Variorum Edition, Franklin, 1998
Emily Dickinson Archive
I think just how my shape will rise -When I shall be "forgiven" - Till Hair - and Eyes - and timid Head - Are out of sight - in Heaven - I think just how my lips will weigh -With shapeless - quivering - prayer - That you - so late - "consider"me - The "sparrow" of your care - I mind me that of Anguish - sent - Some drifts were moved away -Before my simple bosom - broke - And why not this - if they?And so I con that thing -"forgiven" - Until - delirious - borne - By my long bright - andlonger - trust -I drop my Heart - unshriven!