 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
186
[XLVIII. There's been a death in the opposite house]
There's been a death in the opposite house
As lately as to-day.
I know it by the numb look
Such houses have alway.
As lately as to-day.
I know it by the numb look
Such houses have alway.
The neighbors rustle in and out,
The doctor drives away.
A window opens like a pod,
Abrupt, mechanically;
The doctor drives away.
A window opens like a pod,
Abrupt, mechanically;
Somebody flings a mattress out,—
The children hurry by;
They wonder if It died on that,—
I used to when a boy.
The children hurry by;
They wonder if It died on that,—
I used to when a boy.
The minister goes stiffly in
As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,
And little boys besides;
As if the house were his,
And he owned all the mourners now,
And little boys besides;
187
And then the milliner, and the man
Of the appalling trade,
To take the measure of the house.
There'll be that dark parade
Of the appalling trade,
To take the measure of the house.
There'll be that dark parade
Of tassels and of coaches soon;
It 's easy as a sign,—
The intuition of the news
In just a country town.
It 's easy as a sign,—
The intuition of the news
In just a country town.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |