Death (Poem by Emily Dickinson)

Emily Dickinson

By Emily Dickinson

Death is like the insect
    Menacing the tree,
Competent to kill it,
    But decoyed may be.

Bait it with the balsam,
    Seek it with the knife,
Baffle, if it cost you
    Everything in life.

Then, if it have burrowed
    Out of reach of skill,
Ring the tree and leave it, — 
    'T is the vermin's will.

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