Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu/189

 POEMS. 175

��XXXVII.

TTHE dying need but little, dear,- -* A glass of water 's all, A flower's unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall,

A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,

And certainly that one No color in the rainbow

Perceives when you are gone.

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