Poem 1100


Emily Dickinson

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--


Go Back