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What Shall I Do—it Whimpers So
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

What Shall I Do—it Whimpers So

Poem By Emily Dickinson

186

What shall I do—it whimpers so—
This little Hound within the Heart
All day and night with bark and start—
And yet, it will not go—
Would you untie it, were you me—
Would it stop whining—if to Thee—
I sent it—even now?

It should not tease you—
By your chair—or, on the mat—
Or if it dare—to climb your dizzy knee—
Or—sometimes at your side to run—
When you were willing—
Shall it come?
Tell Carlo—
He'll tell me!

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Comments (1)

..............a wonderful write...and very nice read...I would take him outside to run and play ★


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