Funeral Poem: Dying (Emily Dickinson)
Wednesday, June 4th, 2008The sun kept setting, setting still; No hue of afternoon Upon the village I perceived, -- From house to house 't was noon. The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; No dew upon the grass, But only on my forehead stopped, And wandered in my face. My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still, My fingers were awake; Yet why so little sound ...