Emily Dickinson - In falling Timbers buried lyrics

614 In falling Timbers buried There breathed a Man Outside—the spades—were plying The Lungs—within Could He—know—they sought Him Could They—know—He breathed Horrid Sand Partition Neither—could be heard Never slacked the Diggers But when Spades had done Oh, Reward of Anguish It was dying—Then Many Things—are fruitless 'Tis a Baffling Earth But there is no Gratitude Like the Grace—of d**h