English poetry

Poems in English


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.

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