96
Sexton! My Master's sleeping here.
Pray lead me to his bed!
I came to build the Bird's nest,
And sow the Early seed—
That when the snow creeps slowly
From off his chamber door—
Daisies point the way there—
And the Troubadour.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- I Had Not Minded—walls
- I Gained It So
- The Mountains—grow Unnoticed
- The Outer—from The Inner
- The Sunrise Runs For Both