10 février 2015 2 10 /02 /février /2015 15:24
I meant to find her when I came;
Death had the same design;
But the success was his, it seems,
And the discomfit mine.
I meant to tell her how I longed
For just this single time;
But Death had told her so the first,
And she had hearkened him.
To wander now is my abode;
To rest,—to rest would be
A privilege of hurricane
To memory and me.
Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems , Part Four: Time and Eternity. 1924.
"You know I didn't know I loved her 'til they damn laid her down"