I’ve seen a dying eye
Run round and round a room
In search of something, as it seemed,
Then cloudier become;
And then, obscure with fog,
And then be soldered down,
Without disclosing what it be,
‘T were blessed to have seen.
Credits
Emily Dickinson was a 19th-century American poet now regarded as one of the most original voices in literary history, though she published fewer than a dozen poems during her lifetime. Known for her compressed style, unconventional punctuation, and unflinching examination of death and immortality, Dickinson returned to the deathbed scene repeatedly in her work — and in this poem, she narrows her focus to a single, searingly intimate detail: the eye itself.
