I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.
The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.
I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
Could make assignable, and then
There interposed a fly,
With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
could not see to see.
. . .
Dickinson (18301886); was born in Amherst to a prominent family.
She is widely considered one of the greatest poets in American literature.
Her unique, gemlike lyrics are distillations of profound feeling and original
intellect, and they stand outside the mainstream of American literary
of the Mind ||