Poems by Emily Dickinson (1 of 447)
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Edited by two of her friends: Mabel Loomis Todd and T.W. Higginson
There came a day, at Summer's full,
Entirely for me,
I thought that such were for the Saints,
Where Resurrections, be,
The sun, as common, went abroad,
The flowers, accustomed, blew,
As if no soul, that solstice passed,
Which maketh all things, new,
The time was scarce profaned, by speech,
The falling of a word
Was needless, as at Sacrament,
The Wardrobe, of our Lord!
Each was to each, the sealed church,
Permitted to commune, this time,
Lest we too awkward show
At Supper of "the Lamb."
The hours slid fast, as hours will,
Clutched tight, by greedy hands,
So, faces on two Decks look back,
Bound to opposing lands.
And so, when all the time had leaked,
Without external sound,
Each bound the other's Crucifix,
We gave no other bond,
Sufficient troth, that we shall rise,
Deposed, at length the Grave,
To that new marriage,
Justified, through Calvaries, of Love!