The dying need but little, dear,--
A glass of water's all,
A flower's unobtrusive face
To punctuate the wall,
A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,
And certainly that one
No color in the rainbow
Perceives when you are gone.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- She Went As Quiet As The Dew
- The Sea Said 'Come' To The Brook
- I Think To Live—may Be A Bliss
- The Soul That Hath A Guest
- Have Any Like Myself