I think just how my shape will rise -
When I shall be "forgiven" -
Till Hair - and Eyes - and timid Head -
Are out of sight - in Heaven -
I think just how my lips will weigh -
With shapeless - quivering - prayer -
That you - so late - "Consider" me -
The "Sparrow" of your Care -
I mind me that of Anguish - sent -
Some drifts were moved away -
Before my simple bosom - broke -
And why not this - if they?
And so I con that thing - "forgiven" -
Until - delirious - borne -
By my long bright - and longer - trust -
I drop my Heart - unshriven!