Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
898 How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom Keeps making November difficult Till I who was almost bold Lose my way like a little Child And perish of the cold.
Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:17 PM | Viewed: 8611 times
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