Poem+number+509+-+If+Anybody's+Friend+Be+Dead

If anybody's friend be dead It's sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive — At such and such a time —

Their costume, of a Sunday, Some manner of the Hair — A prank nobody knew but them Lost, in the Sepulchre —

How warm, they were, on such a day, You almost feel the date — So short way off it seems — And now — they're Centuries from that —

How pleased they were, at what you said — You try to touch the smile And dip your fingers in the frost — When was it — Can you tell —

You asked the Company to tea — Acquaintance — just a few — And chatted close with this Grand Thing That don't remember you —

Past Bows, and Invitations — Past Interview, and Vow — Past what Ourself can estimate — That — makes the Quick of Woe!

I think that this poem is another example of the way Emily Dickinson feels about death. She knows that the soul gets separated from the body in death, and only the body dies. In death, she also believes that the soul is given a clean slate. She talks about everyday occurances to show how they create memories, although they are of little importance. And also, all of that is erased and the slate of your soul is wiped clean. It seems that she had written this after the death of someone close to her, and it was written as a reflection of how much she missed them, and about how fragile life is. 1205458963