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1100 The last Night that She lived It was a Common Night Except the Dying—this to Us Made Nature different We noticed smallest things— Things overlooked before By this great light upon our Minds Italicized—as 'twere. As We went out and in Between Her final Room And Rooms where Those to be alive Tomorrow were, a Blame That Others could exist While She must finish quite A Jealousy for Her arose So nearly infinite— We waited while She passed— It was a narrow time— Too jostled were Our Souls to speak At length the notice came. She mentioned, and forgot— Then lightly as a Reed Bent to the Water, struggled scarce— Consented, and was dead— And We—We placed the Hair— And drew the Head erect— And then an awful leisure was Belief to regulate— Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:52 PM | Viewed: 9789 times
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Emily Dickinson
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