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I cried at Pity — not at Pain — (poem 588)
by Emily Dickinson
I cried at Pity — not at Pain —
I heard a Woman say
“Poor Child” — and something in her voice
Convicted 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, I supposed — to Heaven,
For children, made of Gold —
But not to touch, or wish for,
Or think of, with a sigh —
And so and so — had been to me,
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 —
Sheet Music
Childe Emilie
Composer(s): Leo Smit
Song(s): 1. I was the slightest in the House
2. Through lane it lay - through bramble
3. It troubled me as once I was
4. The Child's faith is new
5. Softened by Time's consummate plush
6. Papa above!
7. We talked as Girls do
8. They shut me up in Prose
9. I cried at Pity - not at Pain
10. Let Us play Yesterday
11. A loss of something ever felt I
12. Good Morning - Midnight
13. Up Life's Hill with my little Bundle
14. I'm ceded - I've stopped being Theirs
Voice Type: Mezzo-Soprano, Soprano
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