Death sets a Thing significant
The Eye had hurried by
Except a perished Creature
Entreat us tenderly

To ponder little Workmanships
In Crayon, or in Wool
With "This was last Her fingers did"
Industrious until

The Thimble weighed too heavy
The stitches stopped — by themselves
And then 'twas put among the Dust
Upon the Closet shelves

A Book I have — a friend gave
Whose Pencil — here and there
Had notched the place that pleased Him
At Rest — His fingers are

Now — when I read — I read not
For interrupting Tears
Obliterate the Etchings
Too Costly for Repairs