Emily Dickinson

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

What Shall I Do—it Whimpers So - Poem by Emily Dickinson


What shall I do—it whimpers so—
This little Hound within the Heart
All day and night with bark and start—
And yet, it will not go—
Would you untie it, were you me—
Would it stop whining—if to Thee—
I sent it—even now?

It should not tease you—
By your chair—or, on the mat—
Or if it dare—to climb your dizzy knee—
Or—sometimes at your side to run—
When you were willing—
Shall it come?
Tell Carlo—
He'll tell me!

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Read poems about / on: sometimes, night, heart, running

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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