< Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu
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POEMS. 217
��XXXI. PRECEDENCE.
\\ 7 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 !
�� �
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