The last night that she lived
It was a common night,
Except the dying; this to us
Made nature different.
Things overlooked before,
By this great light upon our mind
Italicized, as ‘twere.
While she must finish quite,
A jealousy for her arose
So nearly infinite.
It was a narrow time,
Too jostled were our souls to speak,
At length the notice came.
Then lightly as a reed
Bent to the water, shivered scarce,
Consented, and was dead.
And drew the head erect;
And then an awful leisure was
Our faith to regulate.
--Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)


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