Till The End. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    I should not dare to leave my friend,
    Because — because if he should die
    While I was gone, and I — too late —
    Should reach the heart that wanted me;

    If I should disappoint the eyes
    That hunted, hunted so, to see,
    And could not bear to shut until
    They “noticed” me — they noticed me;

    If I should stab the patient faith
    So sure I ‘d come — so sure I ‘d come,
    It listening, listening, went to sleep
    Telling my tardy name, —

    My heart would wish it broke before,
    Since breaking then, since breaking then,
    Were useless as next morning’s sun,
    Where midnight frosts had lain!