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