Cite
 
by EmilyDickinson
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.