When I am dying, let me know
That I loved the blowing snow
Although it stung like whips;
That I loved all lovely things
And I tried to take their stings
With gay unembittered lips;
That I loved with all my strength,
To my soul’s full depth and length,
Careless if it break my heart;
That I sang as children may,
Fitting tunes to work or play,
Loving life, instead of art.
The Yale Review is committed to publishing pieces from its archive as they originally appeared, without alterations to spelling, content, or style. Occasionally, errors creep in due to the digitization process; we work to correct these errors as we find them. You can email [email protected] with any you find.
Annie Ernaux's unpublished journals, Namwali Serpell on Toni Morrison's native figures, Lauren Oyler on her AI boyfriend, and more.
Annie Ernaux's unpublished journals, Namwali Serpell on Toni Morrison's native figures, Lauren Oyler on her AI boyfriend, and more.