There’s Been A Death In The Opposite House By Emily Dickinson

   There’s been a death in the opposite house
    As lately as to-day.
    I know it by the numb look
    Such houses have alway.

    The neighbors rustle in and out,
    The doctor drives away.
    A window opens like a pod,
    Abrupt, mechanically;

    Somebody flings a mattress out, —
    The children hurry by;
    They wonder if It died on that, —
    I used to when a boy.

    The minister goes stiffly in
    As if the house were his,
    And he owned all the mourners now,
    And little boys besides;

    And then the milliner, and the man
    Of the appalling trade,
    To take the measure of the house.
    There’ll be that dark parade

    Of tassels and of coaches soon;
    It’s easy as a sign, —
    The intuition of the news
    In just a country town.