She Died At Play Poem by Emily Dickinson
She Died At Play
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She died at play,
Gambolled away
Her lease of spotted hours,
Then sank as gaily as a Turn
Upon a Couch of flowers.
Her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill
Yesterday, and Today,
Her vestments as the silver fleece—
Her countenance as spray.
Monday, January 13, 2003
Topic(s) of this poem: silver
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8/11/2026 7:09:39 PM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
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