On such a night, or such a night,

On such a night, or such a night,
Would anybody care
If such a little figure
Slipped quiet from its chair－

So quiet－Oh how quiet,
That nobody might know
But that the little figure
Rocked softer－to and fro－

On such a dawn, or such a dawn－
Would anybody sigh
That such a little figure
Too sound asleep did lie

For Chanticleer to wake it－
Or stirring house below－
Or giddy bird in orchard－
Or early task to do?

There was a little figure plump
For every little knoll－
Busy needles, and spools of thread－
And trudging feet from school－

Playmates, and holidays, and nuts－
And visions vast and small－
Strange that the feet so precious charged
Should reach so small a goal!

Emily Dickinson

A little girl passed away, unnoticed

On such a night, or such a night,
Would anybody care
If such a little figure
Slipped quiet from its chair?

So quiet－Oh how quiet,
That nobody might know
But that the little figure
Rocked softer－to and fro－

On such a dawn, or such a dawn－
Would anybody sigh
That such a little figure
Lay asleep too sound

For Rooster －
Or busy basement－
Or cheerful bird in orchard－
Or early task to wake it?

There was a little plump doll
For every little burial mound－
Busy needles, and spools of thread－
And heavy feet from school－

Playmates, and holidays, and nuts－
And visions of various kinds－
‘Tis strange that the vital feet on an errand
Should reach so small a goal!