With Flowers.

A poem by Emily Dickinson

If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not;
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot!
And if to miss were merry,
And if to mourn were gay,
How very blithe the fingers
That gathered these to-day!

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'With Flowers.' by Emily Dickinson

comments powered by Disqus