I heard a Fly buzz – when I died –
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air –
Between the Heaves of Storm –
The Eyes around – had wrung them dry –
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset – when the King
Be witnessed – in the Room –
I willed my Keepsakes – Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable – and then it was
There interposed a Fly –
With Blue – uncertain – stumbling Buzz –
Between the light – and me –
And then the Windows failed – and then
I could not see to see –
I don’t know why exactly I decided to post this, maybe it’s because I recently re-watched John Green’s intro to, exploration of, and analysis of Dickinson on his Crash Course segment on YouTube, and I thought this poem was particularly interesting.
So, I posted it here for all you poetic people to take a look at and observe all the various and masterful techniques which Emily Dickinson applies.
Modernist, though she may not be, her use of language is extraordinarily well-crafted and I regret not having read more of her writing. So I took it upon myself to right this mistake by not only recently acquiring a collection of her poems, but also by posting this here.
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