Emily Dickinson

I Read My Sentence steadily

poem 412

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

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