445
'Twas 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 the Carts 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 would it blur the Christmas glee
My Stocking hang too high
For any Santa Claus to reach
The Altitude of me-
But this sort, grieved myself,
And so, I thought the other way,
How just this time, some perfect year-
Themself, should come to me-
Twas Just This Time, Last Year, I Died
Emily Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: christmas, father, perfect, red, I miss you, reach, high, yellow, time, year, santa, Santa Clause, thought, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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