Emily Dickinson
We do not play on Graves
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