poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.

150

She died—this was the way she died.
And when her breath was done
Took up her simple wardrobe
And started for the sun.
Her little figure at the gate
The Angels must have spied,
Since I could never find her
Upon the mortal side.

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 20 Nov 2008 5:54 PM | Viewed: 5239 times

PoetryNotes™ Analysis

A custom PoetryNotes™ eBook may be ordered for this poem. Get help with your homework - delivered in 5-6 days.

For more information...