Along the Potomac

When I was small, a woman died.
To-day her only boy
Went up from the Potomac,
His face all victory.

To look at her; how slowly
The seasons must have turned
Till bullets clipt an angle,
And he passed quickly round!

If pride shall be in Paradise
I never can decide;
Of their imperial conduct,
No person testified.

But proud in apparition,
That woman and her boy
Pass back and forth before my brain,
As ever in the sky.

First print Time and Eternity poem XXXIII, 33
Johnson 596 | Franklin 518

■→IN POLISH

Text compared with the fascicle and prepared for publication by Teresa Pelka, available under any of the following licenses: ■→Creative Commons License 4.0, BY-SA 3.0, and License 2.5.

Semicolon for stanza end.

■→Poems, first print by Higginson and Todd, page 145;

■→Google Drive, manuscript fascicles;
Poems one-by-one print and fascicle comparison,
■→Resource for Emily Dickinson’s poetry.


A D V E R T I S E M E N T

The world may never have seen her original handwriting, if her skill was taken for supernatural. Feel welcome to Poems by Emily Dickinson prepared for print by Teresa Pelka: thematic stanzas, notes on the Greek and Latin inspiration, the correlative with Webster 1828, and the Aristotelian motif, Things perpetual — these are not in time, but in eternity.

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