I was the slightest in the house
I took the smallest room
at night, my little lamp, and book
and one geranium

So stationed I could catch the Mint
that never ceased to fall
and just my basket
let me think-I'm sure
that this was all

I never spoke, unless addressed
and then, twas brief and low
I could not bear to live-aloud
the racket shamed me so

and if ait had not been so far
and any one I knew
were going-i had often thought
how noteless-i could die
-dickinson