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.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Emily Dickinson's poem That odd old man is dead a year —

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