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!