One of my favorite poems that Emily Dickinson wrote was "I felt a Funeral in my Brain". I discovered this poem and E.D. in my high school English class in the 10th grade. I had a friend named Tiff and we were both a little into macabre. Today, I guess we would be called goth, but this was an unknown term at that time.
I memorized this poem back then, but I only remembered 3 verses today. I looked up the poem so that you could read it all:
"I felt a funeral in my brain, and mourners to and fro, kept treading, treading till it seemed that sense was breaking through.
And when they were all seated, a service like a drum, kept beating, beating till I felt my mind were going numb.
And then I heard them lift a box and creak across my soul, with those same boots of lead again, then space began to toll.
As all the Heavens were a bell, and being, but an ear, and I in silence some strange race wrecked solitary here.
And then a plank in reason broke, and I dropped down and down, and hit a world at at every plunge and finished knowing then..."
I love this poem because of the way it ends, and because of the mystery and beauty of it. A lot of people think that thinking or talking or wondering about death is morbid, but I think that it helps us to remember to LIVE and not take things/people/events for granted.