Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Four: Time and Eternity
LXI
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| IF anybody’s friend be dead, | |
| It’s sharpest of the theme | |
| The thinking how they walked alive, | |
| At such and such a time. | |
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| Their costume, of a Sunday, | 5 |
| Some manner of the hair,— | |
| A prank nobody knew but them, | |
| Lost, in the sepulchre. | |
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| How warm they were on such a day: | |
| You almost feel the date, | 10 |
| So short way off it seems; and now, | |
| They ’re centuries from that. | |
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| How pleased they were at what you said; | |
| You try to touch the smile, | |
| And dip your fingers in the frost: | 15 |
| When was it, can you tell, | |
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| You asked the company to tea, | |
| Acquaintance, just a few, | |
| And chatted close with this grand thing | |
| That don’t remember you? | 20 |
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| Past bows and invitations, | |
| Past interview, and vow, | |
| Past what ourselves can estimate,— | |
| That makes the quick of woe! | |
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