The Dying Need But Little, Dear,-- - Poem by Emily 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.
Comments about The Dying Need But Little, Dear,-- by Emily Dickinson
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.