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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-
(Emily Dickinson)
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