I think just how my shape will rise —

←If He dissolve — then — there is nothing — more — (236)

I think just how my shape will rise — by Emily Dickinson 237

(238) Kill your Balm — and its Odors bless you —→

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!

Poetry by Emily Dickinson (edit list):
By letter of the alphabet:	A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, Y.
By number	1-99, 100-199, 200-299, 300-399, 400-499, 500-599, 600-699, 700-799, 800-899, 900-999, 1000-1099, 1100-1199, 1200-1299, 1300-1399, 1400-1499, 1500-1599, 1600-1699, 1700-1775.