Let Down the Bars, O Death
poem by Emily Dickinson
LET down the bars, O Death!
The tired flocks come in
Whose bleating ceases to repeat,
Whose wandering is done.
Thine is the stillest night,
Thine the securest fold;
Too near thou art for seeking thee,
Too tender to be told.
By: Emily Dickinson
Emily Dickinson at Amazon
They Dropped like Flakes