In quiet rooms where shadows dance,
She pondered life’s ephemeral glance.
Her words, a bridge to realms unseen,
Where death’s embrace is soft and keen.

With pen in hand, she wrote with grace,
Of death’s serene and tender face.
A carriage ride, so calm, so still,
Through meadows green, past every hill.

She greeted death not with despair,
But with a heart that’s light and fair.
In her quiet, reclusive nest,
She found in death a gentle rest.

Emily’s verses, timeless, deep,
In our hearts, they gently seep.
Through her words, we come to see,
Death as a peaceful eternity.