Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete · Emily Dickinson
Chapter 7
Chapter 93 of 146 · 1 min read
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.
