Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

Some, too fragile for winter winds,
The thoughtful grave encloses, --
Tenderly tucking them in from frost
Before their feet are cold.

Never the treasures in her nest
The cautious grave exposes,
Building where schoolboy dare not look
And sportsman is not bold.

This covert have all the children
Early aged, and often cold, --
Sparrows unnoticed by the Father;
Lambs for whom time had not a fold.

1. What Inn Is This
2. It Was Not Death, for I Stood up
3. A Throe upon the Features
4. Till the End
5. Gone

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