That she forgot me was the least
I felt it second pain
That I was worthy to forget
Was most I thought upon.
Faithful was all that I could boast
But Constancy became
To her, by her innominate,
A something like a shame.
That she forgot me was the least
I felt it second pain
That I was worthy to forget
Was most I thought upon.
Faithful was all that I could boast
But Constancy became
To her, by her innominate,
A something like a shame.
© Emily Dickinson