A Loss of Something Ever Felt I, by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

A Loss of Something Ever Felt I

959

A loss of something ever felt I—

The first that I could recollect

Bereft I was—of what I knew not

Too young that any should suspect

A Mourner walked among the children

I notwithstanding went about

As one bemoaning a Dominion

Itself the only Prince cast out—

Elder, Today, a session wiser

And fainter, too, as Wiseness is—

I find myself still softly searching

For my Delinguent Palaces—

And a Suspicion, like a Finger

Touches my Forehead now and then

That I am looking oppositely

For the site of the Kingdom of Heaven—

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