Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

The dying need but little, dear,—
  A glass of water's all,
A flower's unobtrusive face
  To punctuate the wall,

A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,
  And certainly that one
No color in the rainbow
  Perceives when you are gone.

1. Is Bliss, Then, Such Abyss
2. Childish Griefs
3. What Soft, Cherubic Creatures
4. Desire
5. Power

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