Poemsby Emily Dickinson



 Going to heaven! I don't know when, Pray do not ask me how, - Indeed, I 'm too astonished To think of answering you! Going to heaven! - How dim it sounds! And yet it will be done As sure as flocks go home at night Unto the shepherd's arm! 
 Perhaps you 're going too! Who knows? If you should get there first, Save just a little place for me Close to the two I lost! 
 The smallest "robe" will fit me, And just a bit of "crown;" For you know we do not mind our dress When we are going home. 
 I 'm glad I don't believe it, For it would stop my breath, And I 'd like to look a little more At such a curious earth! I am glad they did believe it Whom I have never found Since the mighty autumn afternoon I left them in the ground.