Cite
 

Poemsby Emily Dickinson

Invisible
Trying to Forget

XXVIII

I wish I knew that woman's name,
  So, when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears,
  For fear I hear her say
She's 'sorry I am dead,' again,
  Just when the grave and I
Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep, —
  Our only lullaby.