715 br br The World—feels Dusty br When We stop to Die— br We want the Dew—then— br Honors—taste dry— br br Flags—vex a Dying face— br But the least Fan br Stirred by a friend's Hand— br Cools—like the Rain— br br Mine be the Ministry br When they Thirst comes— br And Hybla Balms— br Dews of Thessaly, to fetch—br br Emily Dickinsonbr br