alone

Poem: Of Tribulation

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 passed—
When Night devoured the Road—
But we—stood whispering in the House—
And all we said—was "Saved"!

Emily Dickinson
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “poetry” Tag

  • Poem: The Titmouse

    - Walter de la Mare If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin, Its snow-pulped kernel for…

  • Poem: It was not Death, for I stood up

    - Emily Dickinson It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down— It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues,…

  • Poem: The Keys of Morning

    Walter de la Mare While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She…

Again, proof that Emily Dickinson is just, or was just, so bloody clever!
I didn't pick it out for this date on purpose, but in retrospect it seems pretty appropriate....