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Home  »  The Complete Poems  »  LXXXVII

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part Five: The Single Hound

LXXXVII

HER “Last Poems”—

Poets ended,

Silver perished with her tongue,

Not on record bubbled other

Flute, or Woman, so divine;

Robin uttered half the tune—

Gushed too free for the adoring,

From the Anglo-Florentine.

Late the praise—

’T is dull conferring

On a Head too high to crown,

Diadem or Ducal showing,

Be its Grave sufficient sign.

Yet if we, no Poet’s Kinsman,

Suffocate with easy woe,

What and if ourself a Bridegroom,

Put Her down, in Italy?

(Written after the death of Mrs. Browning in 1861.)