Emily Dickinson: That such have died enables us
Bertolt Brecht: Of my mother [Meiner Mutter]

Emily Dickinson: The last night that she lived

Slipping_away_by_sanoi_at_flickr_2

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 mind
Italicized, as ‘twere.

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, shivered scarce,
Consented, and was dead.

And we, we placed the hair,
And drew the head erect;
And then an awful leisure was
Our faith to regulate.

          --Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

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