Emily Dickinson Poems >>
If I may have it, when it's dead

577

If I may have it, when it's dead,
I'll be contented-so-
If just as soon as Breath is out
It shall belong to me-

Until they lock it in the Grave,
'Tis Bliss I cannot weigh-
For tho' they lock Thee in the Grave,
Myself-can own the key-

Think of it Lover! I and Thee
Permitted-face to face to be-
After a Life-a Death-We'll say-
For Death was That-
And this-is Thee-

I'll tell Thee All-how Bald it grew-
How Midnight felt, at first-to me-
How all the Clocks stopped in the World-
And Sunshine pinched me-'Twas so cold-

Then how the Grief got sleepy-some-
As if my Soul were deaf and dumb-
Just making signs-across-to Thee-
That this way-thou could'st notice me-

I'll tell you how I tried to keep
A smile, to show you, when this Deep
All Waded-We look back for Play,
At those Old Times-in Calvary,

Forgive me, if the Grave come slow-
For Coveting to look at Thee-
Forgive me, if to stroke thy frost
Outvisions Paradise!