Poems, Series 3: XXXVII. The dying need but little, dear
XXXVII. The dying need but little, dear
THE dying need but little, dear, --
A glass of water's all,
A flower's unobtrusive face
To punctuate the wall,
A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,
And certainly that one
No color in the rainbow
Perceives when you are gone.