If I Shouldn'T Be Alive Poem by Emily Dickinson

If I Shouldn'T Be Alive

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182

If I shouldn't be alive
When the Robins come,
Give the one in Red Cravat,
A Memorial crumb.

If I couldn't thank you,
Being fast asleep,
You will know I'm trying
Why my Granite lip!

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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Amherst / Massachusetts
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