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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-and longer-trust-
I drop my Heart-unshriven!
I Think Just How My Shape Will Rise
Emily Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: away, hair, heart, heaven, trust, head, rise, long, bright, mind, simple, shape, prayer, anguish, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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