Poem A Day

When I was small, a Woman died --

by Emily Dickinson

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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Poem A Day

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