That odd old man is dead a year —
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| ←Tell all the Truth but tell it slant — (1129) | That odd old man is dead a year — by 1130 |
(1131) The Merchant of the Picturesque→ |
That odd old man is dead a year —
We miss his stated Hat.
'Twas such an evening bright and stiff
His faded lamp went out.
Who miss his antiquated Wick —
Are any hoar for him?
Waits any indurated mate
His wrinkled coming Home?
Oh Life, begun in fluent Blood
And consummated dull!
Achievement contemplating thee —
Feels transitive and cool.
| Poetry by Emily Dickinson (edit list): | |
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