I went to thank her

I went to thank her,
But she slept;
Her bed a funnelled stone,
With nosegays at the head and foot,
That travellers had thrown,

Who went to thank her;
But she slept.
'Twas short to cross the sea
To look upon her like, alive,
But turning back 'twas slow.

Published in Poems by Emily Dickinson

Tags:

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.