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, until delirious borne
I con that thing, -- "forgiven," --
Till with long fright and longer trust
I drop my heart, unshriven!
I Think Just How My Shape Will Rise
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
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Poem topics: away, hair, heart, heaven, trust, head, rise, long, mind, simple, shape, prayer, anguish, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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