Poemsby Emily Dickinson

VIII

Immortality

IX

They won't frown always, — some sweet day
  When I forget to tease,
They'll recollect how cold I looked,
  And how I just said 'please.'

Then they will hasten to the door
  To call the little child,
Who cannot thank them, for the ice
  That on her lisping piled.

Contents

VIII

Immortality