Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

The World&Mdash;Feels Dusty - Poem by Emily Dickinson

715

The World—feels Dusty
When We stop to Die—
We want the Dew—then—
Honors—taste dry—

Flags—vex a Dying face—
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend's Hand—
Cools—like the Rain—

Mine be the Ministry
When they Thirst comes—
And Hybla Balms—
Dews of Thessaly, to fetch—


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Read poems about / on: rain, friend, world



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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