Death Leaves Us Homesick

Death leaves us homesick, who behind

Death leaves Us homesick, who behind,
Except that it is gone
Are ignorant of its concern
As if it were not born.

Through all their former places, we
Like individuals go
Who something lost, the seeking for
Is all that's left them, now-
- Poems by Emily Dickinson

'Till Death Is Narrow Loving

'Till death—is narrow Loving-
The scantest Heart extant
Will hold you till your privilege
Of finiteness-be spent-

But he whose loss procures you
Such eestitution that
Your life too abject for itself
Thenceforward imitate-

Until-resemblance perfect-
Yourself, for His pursuit
Delight of nature-abdicate-
Exhibit love-somewhat-
Emily Dickinson

Wait Till the Majesty of Death

Wait till the Majesty of Death
Invests so mean a brow!
Almost a powdered footman
Might dare to touch it now!

Wait till in everlasting robes
That democrat is dressed,
Then prate about "Preferment"-
And "Station," and the rest!

Around this quiet courtier
Obsequious Angels wait!
Full royal is his retinue!
Full purple is his state!

A Lord, might dare to lift the hat
To such a modest clay
Since that my Lord, "the Lord of Lords"
Receives unblushingly!
Emily Dickinson

Suspense Is Hostiler Than Death

Suspense-is hostiler than death-
Death-tho’soever broad,
Is just death, and cannot increase-
Suspense-does not conclude-

But perishes-to live anew-
But just anew to die-
Annihilation-plated fresh
With immortality-
Emily Dickinson

Death is the sound of distant
thunder at a picnic.
- Quote by W. H. Auden

Poems About Death
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