422
More Life—went out—when He went
Than Ordinary Breath—
Lit with a finer Phosphor—
Requiring in the Quench—
A Power of Renowned Cold,
The Climate of the Grave
A Temperature just adequate
So Anthracite, to live—
For some—an Ampler Zero—
A Frost more needle keen
Is necessary, to reduce
The Ethiop within.
Others—extinguish easier—
A Gnat's minutest Fan
Sufficient to obliterate
A Tract of Citizen—
Whose Peat lift—amply vivid—
Ignores the solemn News
That Popocatapel exists—
Or Etna's Scarlets, Choose—
Emily Dickinson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/more-life-went-out-when-he-went/
