Death Sets A Thing Significant
Emily Dickinson
360 Death sets a Thing significant The Eye had hurried by Except a perished Creature Entreat us tenderly To ponder little Workmanships In Crayon, or in Wool, With “This was last Her fingers did”— Industrious until— The Thimble weighed too heavy— The stitches stopped—by themselves— And then ’twas put among the Dust Upon the Closet shelves— A Book I have—a friend gave— Whose Pencil—here and there— Had notched the place that pleased Him— At Rest—His fingers are— Now—when I read—I read not— For interrupting Tears— Obliterate the Etchings Too Costly for Repairs.
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