Death sets a Thing significant

Death sets a Thing significant

The Eye had hurried by

Except a perished Creature

Entreat us tenderly

To ponder little Workmanships

In Crayon, or in Wool,

With “This was last Her fingers did”—

Industrious until—

The Thimble weighed too heavy—

The stitches stopped—by themselves—

And then ’twas put among the Dust

Upon the Closet shelves—

A Book I have—a friend gave—

Whose Pencil—here and there—

Had notched the place that pleased Him—

At Rest—His fingers are—

Now—when I read—I read not—

For interrupting Tears—

Obliterate the Etchings

Too Costly for Repairs.