Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

T Was Just This Time Last Year I Died. - Poem by Emily Dickinson

'T was just this time last year I died.
I know I heard the corn,
When I was carried by the farms,--
It had the tassels on.

I thought how yellow it would look
When Richard went to mill;
And then I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.

I thought just how red apples wedged
The stubble's joints between;
And carts went stooping round the fields
To take the pumpkins in.

I wondered which would miss me least,
And when Thanksgiving came,
If father'd multiply the plates
To make an even sum.

And if my stocking hung too high,
Would it blur the Christmas glee,
That not a Santa Claus could reach
The altitude of me?

But this sort grieved myself, and so
I thought how it would be
When just this time, some perfect year,
Themselves should come to me.


Comments about T Was Just This Time Last Year I Died. by Emily Dickinson

  • Gold Star - 31,784 Points Gangadharan Nair Pulingat (12/11/2014 9:17:00 AM)

    Great imaginations from the great poet respecting the life (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Gold Star - 16,408 Points * Sunprincess * (1/25/2014 11:02:00 PM)

    ........seems as if she isn't in the holiday spirit.... (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: christmas, father, red, time



Poem Submitted: Monday, May 14, 2001

Poem Edited: Monday, May 14, 2001


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