I heard a Fly buzz--when I died-- 
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air-- 
Between the Heaves of Storm--

The Eyes around--had wrung them dry-- 
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset--when the King
Be witnessed--in the Room-- 

I willed my Keepsakes--Signed away
What portions of me be
Assignable--and then it was
There interposed a Fly-- 

With Blue--uncertain stumbling Buzz-- 
Between the light--and me-- 
And then the Windows failed--and then
I could not see to see--

---Emily Dickinson

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.