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I cried at Pity​-​not at Pain

from ten poems by Emily Dickinson by vesperland

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lyrics

by Emily dickinson

I cried at Pity—not at Pain—
I heard a Woman say
"Poor Child"—and something in her voice
Convinced me—of me—

So long I fainted, to myself
It seemed the common way,
And Health, and Laughter, curious things—
To look at, like a Toy—

To sometimes hear "Rich people" buy
And see the Parcel rolled—
And carried, we supposed—to Heaven,
For children, made of Gold—

But not to touch, or wish for,
Or think of, with sigh—
And so and so—had been to us,
Had God willed differently.

I wish I knew that Woman's name—
So when she comes this way,
To hold my life, and hold my ears
For fear I hear her say

She's "sorry I am dead"—again—
Just when the Grave and I—
Have sobbed ourselves almost to sleep,
Our only Lullaby—

credits

from ten poems by Emily Dickinson, released December 20, 2015
Lyrics by Emily Dickinson (1830 1886)
Music by Mikael Cointepas

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