< Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu
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1 66 POEMS.
��XXVIII.
T WISH I knew that woman's name,
- So, when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears, For fear I hear her say
She 's ' sorry I am dead,' again,
Just when the grave and I Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep,
Our only lullaby.
�� �
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