"I want"—it pleaded—All its life—
I want—was chief it said
When Skill entreated it—the last—
And when so newly dead—
I could not deem it late—to hear
That single—steadfast sigh—
The lips had placed as with a "Please"
Toward Eternity—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Size Circumscribes—it Has No Room
- So The Eyes Accost—and Sunder
- Who Court Obtain Within Himself
- Of Brussels—it Was Not
- Ideals Are The Fairly Oil