Emily Dickinson

'Tis not that Dying hurts us so

335 '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.