To die—takes just a little while—
They say it doesn't hurt—
It's only fainter—by degrees—
And then—it's out of sight—
A darker Ribbon—for a Day—
A Crape upon the Hat—
And then the pretty sunshine comes—
And helps us to forget—
The absent—mystic—creature—
That but for love of us—
Had gone to sleep—that soundest time—
Without the weariness—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Good Night! Which Put The Candle Out?
- I Play At Riches—to Appease
- The Pedigree Of Honey
- She Bore It Till The Simple Veins
- I Know A Place Where Summer Strives