596 <br /> <br />When I was small, a Woman died— <br />Today—her Only Boy <br />Went up from the Potomac— <br />His face all Victory <br /> <br />To look at her—How slowly <br />The Seasons must have turned <br />Till Bullets clipt an Angle <br />And He passed quickly round— <br /> <br />If pride shall be in Paradise— <br />Ourself cannot decide— <br />Of their imperial Conduct— <br />No person testified— <br /> <br />But, proud in Apparition— <br />That Woman and her Boy <br />Pass back and forth, before my Brain <br />As even in the sky— <br /> <br />I'm confident that Bravoes— <br />Perpetual break abroad <br />For Braveries, remote as this <br />In Scarlet Maryland—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-i-was-small-a-woman-died/
