 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
122
XIII.
THE FUNERAL.
That short, potential stir
That each can make but once,
That bustle so illustrious
'T is almost consequence,
That each can make but once,
That bustle so illustrious
'T is almost consequence,
Is the éclat of death.
Oh, thou unknown renown
That not a beggar would accept,
Had he the power to spurn!
Oh, thou unknown renown
That not a beggar would accept,
Had he the power to spurn!
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |