I heard a Fly buzz - when I died—Emily…

The Rabbit Room

Jun 5

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Suzanne Carol

Jun 5

Makes one wonder ...

What will be our last sight?

Our last hearing?

Our last taste?

And then,

when we awake on the other side ...

What will be our first?

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GOAT

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Simple yet striking. In her poetry, Dickinson was moved again and again by human mortality, and the hope of life beyond this one.

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