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The sun kept setting, setting still; No hue of afternoon Upon the village I perceived,— From house to house ‘t was noon.
The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; No dew upon the grass, But only on my forehead stopped, And wandered in my face.
My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still, My fingers were awake; Yet why so little sound myself Unto my seeming make?
How well I knew the light before! I could not see it now. ‘T is dying, I am doing; but I’m not afraid to know.
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"title": "Dying",
"author": "Emily Dickinson",
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"summary": "This poem reflects on the inevitable passage of time and expresses a contemplative mood towards life's end. It uses the metaphor of the sun setting and dusk falling to convey a sense of concluding or dying. The narrator perceives time differently, where afternoon never seems to come, and the usual indicators of time, like dew or afternoon light, are absent, creating a timeless and introspective atmosphere. The speaker is aware of their own decline, or 'drowsing,' and contrasts their fading vison of light with their continued awareness, suggesting acceptance rather than fear of this transition. The poem invites readers to consider their own perspectives on death and the passage of their lives.",
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"The sun kept setting, setting still; No hue of afternoon Upon the village I perceived,— From house to house ‘t was noon.",
"The dusk kept dropping, dropping still; No dew upon the grass, But only on my forehead stopped, And wandered in my face.",
"My feet kept drowsing, drowsing still, My fingers were awake; Yet why so little sound myself Unto my seeming make?",
"How well I knew the light before! I could not see it now. ‘T is dying, I am doing; but I’m not afraid to know."
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