Emily Dickinson - The Manner of its d**h (468) lyrics

The Manner of its d**h When Certain it must die— 'Tis deemed a privilege to choose— 'Twas Major Andre's Way— When Choice of Life—is past— There yet remains a Love Its little Fate to stipulate— How small in those who live— The Miracle to tease With Bable of the styles— How "they are Dying mostly—now"— And Customs at "St. James"!