POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
LXXXVIII
THE stimulus, beyond the graveHis countenance to see,Supports me like imperial drams Afforded royally.
LXXXIX
GIVEN in marriage unto thee,Oh, thou celestial host!Bride of the Father and the Son, Bride of the Holy Ghost!
Other betrothal shall dissolve, Wedlock of will decay;Only the keeper of this seal Conquers mortality.
XC
THAT such have died enables usThe tranquiller to die;That such have lived, certificate For immortality.
XCI
THEY won’t frown always, — some sweet dayWhen I forget to tease,They’ll recollect how cold I looked, And how I just said “please.”
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