Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

I read my sentence steadily,
Reviewed it with my eyes,
To see that I made no mistake
In its extremest clause, --

The date, and manner of the shame;
And then the pious form
That "God have mercy" on the soul
The jury voted him.

I made my soul familiar
With her extremity,
That at the last it should not be
A novel agony,

But she and Death, acquainted,
Meet tranquilly as friends,
Salute and pass without a hint --
And there the matter ends.

1. Love's Humility
2. What Soft, Cherubic Creatures
3. Desire
4. Power
5. Is Bliss, Then, Such Abyss

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