Page:Emily Dickinson Poems (1890).djvu/138

 XX.

HE last night that she lived, It was a common night, Except the dying; this to us Made nature different.

We noticed smallest things,— Things overlooked before, By this great light upon our minds Italicized, as 't were.

That others could exist While she must finish quite, A jealousy for her arose So nearly infinite.

We waited while she passed; It was a narrow time, Too jostled were our souls to speak, At length the notice came.