Emily Dickinson Poems

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When I was small, a Woman died --
Today -- her Only Boy
Went up from the Potomac --
His face all Victory

To look at her -- How slowly
The Seasons must have turned
Till Bullets clipt an Angle
And He passed quickly round --

If pride shall be in Paradise --
Ourself cannot decide --
Of their imperial Conduct --
No person testified --

But, proud in Apparition --
That Woman and her Boy
Pass back and forth, before my Brain
As even in the sky --

I'm confident that Bravoes --
Perpetual break abroad
For Braveries, remote as this
In Scarlet Maryland --

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