Emily Dickinson

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

I Think Just How My Shape Will Rise - Poem by Emily Dickinson

237

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& mdash;delirious—borne—
By my long bright—and longer—trust—
I drop my Heart—unshriven!


Comments about I Think Just How My Shape Will Rise by Emily Dickinson

  • (1/8/2018 8:25:00 AM)


    last strophe, second line: distorted (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • (9/29/2015 3:20:00 PM)


    .........flows beautifully, an amazing write ★ (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: trust, hair, heaven, rose



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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