(foto David Dickson)

onsdag 26 september 2012

POETRY: On death and dying


THE LAST night 
that she lived
by  
Emily Dickinson (1830–86)

Painting by Eva Yri (photo: Eva Dickson)


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 minds

Italicized, as ’t were.

 
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 1859
Photograph:
Amherst College Archives
Source: Bartleby.com Great Books Online

Check the Emily Dickinson Lexicon for words










On the authenticity of this daguerreotype discovered in 1995.

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