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Emily Dickinson - That odd old man is dead a year --

That odd old man is dead a year --
We miss his stated Hat.
'Twas such an evening bright and stiff
His faded lamp went out.

Who miss his antiquated Wick --
Are any hoar for him?
Waits any indurated mate
His wrinkled coming Home?

Oh Life, begun in fluent Blood
And consummated dull!
Achievement contemplating thee --
Feels transitive and cool.

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Added: Jan 9 2004 | Viewed: 3289 times | Comments and analysis of That odd old man is dead a year -- by Emily Dickinson Comments (0)

That odd old man is dead a year -- - Comments and Information

Poet: Emily Dickinson
Poem: 1130. That odd old man is dead a year --
Volume: Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
Year: Published/Written in 1955
Poem of the Day: Jun 22 2003
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