Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete · Emily Dickinson
Chapter 25
Chapter 34 of 146 · 1 min read
DYING.
The 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 myself Unto my seeming make?
How well I knew the light before! I could not see it now. 'T is dying, I am doing; but I'm not afraid to know.
XXVI.
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar Until the morning sun, When one turned smiling to the land. O God, the other one!
The stray ships passing spied a face Upon the waters borne, With eyes in death still begging raised, And hands beseeching thrown.
