Part 47

Great streets of silence led away To neighborhoods of pause; Here was no notice, no dissent, No universe, no laws.

By clocks 't was morning, and for night The bells at distance called; But epoch had no basis here, For period exhaled.

XXXVIII.

A throe upon the features A hurry in the breath, An ecstasy of parting Denominated "Death," --

An anguish at the mention, Which, when to patience grown, I 've known permission given To rejoin its own.

XXXIX.

SAVED!

Of tribulation these are they Denoted by the white; The spangled gowns, a lesser rank Of victors designate.

All these did conquer; but the ones Who overcame most times Wear nothing commoner than snow, No ornament but palms.

Surrender is a sort unknown On this superior soil; Defeat, an outgrown anguish, Remembered as the mile

Our panting ankle barely gained When night devoured the road; But we stood whispering in the house, And all we said was "Saved"!

XL.

I think just how my shape will rise When I shall be forgiven, Till hair and eyes and timid head Are out of sight, in heaven.

I think just how my lips will weigh With shapeless, quivering prayer That you, so late, consider me, The sparrow of your care.

I mind me that of anguish sent, Some drifts were moved away Before my simple bosom broke, -- And why not this, if they?

And so, until delirious borne I con that thing, -- "forgiven," -- Till with long fright and longer trust I drop my heart, unshriven!

XLI.

THE FORGOTTEN GRAVE.

After a hundred years Nobody knows the place, -- Agony, that enacted there, Motionless as peace.

Weeds triumphant ranged, Strangers strolled and spelled At the lone orthography Of the elder dead.

Winds of summer fields Recollect the way, -- Instinct picking up the key Dropped by memory.

XLII.

Lay this laurel on the one Too intrinsic for renown. Laurel! veil your deathless tree, -- Him you chasten, that is he!

POEMS

by EMILY DICKINSON

Third Series

Edited by

MABEL LOOMIS TODD