Death poems
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I cross till I am weary
© Emily Dickinson
I cross till I am weary
A Mountain -- in my mind --
More Mountains -- then a Sea --
More Seas -- And then
A Desert -- find --
I am afraid to own a Body --
© Emily Dickinson
I am afraid to own a Body --
I am afraid to own a Soul --
Profound -- precarious Property --
Possession, not optional --
How far is it to Heaven?
© Emily Dickinson
How far is it to Heaven?
As far as Death this way --
Of River or of Ridge beyond
Was no discovery.
How dare the robins sing,
© Emily Dickinson
How dare the robins sing,
When men and women hear
Who since they went to their account
Have settled with the year! --
His Bill is clasped -- his Eye forsook --
© Emily Dickinson
His Bill is clasped -- his Eye forsook --
His Feathers wilted low --
The Claws that clung, like lifeless Gloves
Indifferent hanging now --
Her final Summer was it --
© Emily Dickinson
Her final Summer was it --
And yet We guessed it not --
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded Her, We thought
He fought like those Who've nought to lose --
© Emily Dickinson
He fought like those Who've nought to lose --
Bestowed Himself to Balls
As One who for a further Life
Had not a further Use --
Had I presumed to hope --
© Emily Dickinson
Had I presumed to hope --
The loss had been to Me
A Value -- for the Greatness' Sake --
As Giants -- gone away --
Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
© Emily Dickinson
Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
Upon his rare approach --
Go rapid, lest Competing Death
Prevail upon the Coach --
Give little Anguish
© Emily Dickinson
Give little Anguish --
Lives will fret --
Give Avalanches --
And they'll slant --
For this -- accepted Breath
© Emily Dickinson
For this -- accepted Breath --
Through it -- compete with Death --
The fellow cannot touch this Crown --
By it -- my title take --
Ah, what a royal sake
To my necessity -- stooped down!
For Death -- or rather
© Emily Dickinson
For Death -- or rather
For the Things 'twould buy --
This -- put away
Life's Opportunity --
Endow the Living -- with the Tears --
© Emily Dickinson
Endow the Living -- with the Tears --
You squander on the Dead,
And They were Men and Women -- now,
Around Your Fireside --
Do People moulder equally,
© Emily Dickinson
Do People moulder equally,
They bury, in the Grave?
I do believe a Species
As positively live
Despair's advantage is achieved
© Emily Dickinson
Despair's advantage is achieved
By suffering -- Despair --
To be assisted of Reverse
One must Reverse have bore --
Delayed till she had ceased to know
© Emily Dickinson
Delayed till she had ceased to know --
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay --
An hour behind the fleeting breath --
Later by just an hour than Death --
Oh lagging Yesterday!
Death's Waylaying not the sharpest
© Emily Dickinson
Death's Waylaying not the sharpest
Of the thefts of Time --
There Marauds a sorer Robber,
Silence -- is his name --
Death warrants are supposed to be
© Emily Dickinson
Death warrants are supposed to be
An enginery of equity
A merciful mistake
A pencil in an Idol's Hand
A Devotee has oft consigned
To Crucifix or Block
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,
© Emily Dickinson
Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,
Except that it is gone
Are ignorant of its Concern
As if it were not born.
Death is the supple Suitor
© Emily Dickinson
Death is the supple Suitor
That wins at last --
It is a stealthy Wooing
Conducted first
