Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/229

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AIT till the majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered footman Might dare to touch it now!

Wait till in everlasting robes This democrat is dressed, Then prate about "preferment" And "station" and the rest!

Around this quiet courtier Obsequious angels wait! Full royal is his retinue, Full purple is his state!

A lord might dare to lift the hat To such a modest clay, Since that my Lord, "the Lord of lords" Receives unblushingly!