75 <br /> <br />She died at play, <br />Gambolled away <br />Her lease of spotted hours, <br />Then sank as gaily as a Turn <br />Upon a Couch of flowers. <br /> <br />Her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill <br />Yesterday, and Today, <br />Her vestments as the silver fleece— <br />Her countenance as spray.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/she-died-at-play/
