XXXVII. The 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 regr… - Emily Dickinson

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XXXVII. The 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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About Emily Dickinson

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886) was an American poet. Virtually unknown in her lifetime, Dickinson has come to be regarded as one of the greatest American poets of the 19th century. Although she wrote (at latest count) 1789 poems, only a few of them were published in her lifetime, all anonymously, and some perhaps without her knowledge.

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Birth Name: Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
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I never spoke — unless addressed — And then, 'twas brief and low — I could not bear to live — aloud — The Racket shamed me so — And if it had not been so far — And any one I knew
Were going — I had often thought
How noteless — I could die —

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