Poem

We do not play on Graves

Emily Dickinson
467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn't Room— Besides—it isn't even—it slants And People come— And put a Flower on it— And hang their faces so— We're fearing that their Hearts will drop— And crush our pretty play— And so we move as far As Enemies—away— Just looking round to see how far It is—Occasionally—

One poem every morning.

6,130 poems from Shakespeare to Tupac. Read one a day. Save the ones that stay.
Free on the App Store.