Classic Poetry

I ment to find her when I came;

by Emily Dickinson

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.

Classic Poetry

I ment to find her when I came;

by Emily Dickinson

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