‘Tis not that Dying hurts us so —
‘Tis Living — hurts us more —
But Dying — is a different way —
A Kind behind the Door —
The Southern Custom — of the Bird —
That ere the Frosts are due —
Accepts a better Latitude —
We — are the Birds — that stay.
The Shiverers round Farmers’ doors —
For whose reluctant Crumb —
We stipulate — till pitying Snows
Persuade our Feathers Home.
There is a misprint – found widely online –
“Shrivers” should be “Shiverers” (Shrivers would be a syllable short)
The manuscripts show this – e.g. https://www.edickinson.org/editions/2/image_sets/12169827
Thank you for noticing this mistake Peter. I have corrected the line in the poem.
ahh…i see…for some reason i read that bottom part as available now and not available soon…my bad
We fight against death and dying, and we should not.
i love the first two lines of this poem. death, to me, is nothing to be feared, it is a release, and for those of us who are Christian, it is a homecoming to God, which im sure Emily believed. Living, life, is worse than death is some ways, it amazes me how people dont realize this most of the time.