How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom Keeps making November difficult Till I who was almost bold Lose my way like a little Child And perish of the cold.
Emily Dickinson: How Happy I Was If I Could Forget
Author Adrienne Morris 
2 responses to “Emily Dickinson: How Happy I Was If I Could Forget”
I love the art you display. I’m not a poet and have never actually read Emily Dickinson, but this intrigues me. Maybe I’ll go look up her collection.
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I’m not a poet either. 🙂 Good art and poetry inspire me when I get too in a hurry or out of sorts. I’m glad you like.
Isn’t the internet amazing? So many beautiful things at your fingertips!
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