Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Four: Time and Eternity
XIX
|
| TO know just how he suffered would be dear; | |
| To know if any human eyes were near | |
| To whom he could intrust his wavering gaze, | |
| Until it settled firm on Paradise. | |
| |
| To know if he was patient, part content, | 5 |
| Was dying as he thought, or different; | |
| Was it a pleasant day to die, | |
| And did the sunshine face his way? | |
| |
| What was his furthest mind, of home, or God, | |
| Or what the distant say | 10 |
| At news that he ceased human nature | |
| On such a day? | |
| |
| And wishes, had he any? | |
| Just his sigh, accented, | |
| Had been legible to me. | 15 |
| And was he confident until | |
| Ill fluttered out in everlasting well? | |
| |
| And if he spoke, what name was best, | |
| What first, | |
| What one broke off with | 20 |
| At the drowsiest? | |
| |
| Was he afraid, or tranquil? | |
| Might he know | |
| How conscious consciousness could grow, | |
| Till love that was, and love too blest to be, | 25 |
| Meet—and the junction be Eternity? | |
|
|
