508 <br /> <br />I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs— <br />The name They dropped upon my face <br />With water, in the country church <br />Is finished using, now, <br />And They can put it with my Dolls, <br />My childhood, and the string of spools, <br />I've finished threading—too— <br /> <br />Baptized, before, without the choice, <br />But this time, consciously, of Grace— <br />Unto supremest name— <br />Called to my Full—The Crescent dropped— <br />Existence's whole Arc, filled up, <br />With one small Diadem. <br /> <br />My second Rank—too small the first— <br />Crowned—Crowing—on my Father's breast— <br />A half unconscious Queen— <br />But this time—Adequate—Erect, <br />With Will to choose, or to reject, <br />And I choose, just a Crown—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-m-ceded-i-ve-stopped-being-theirs/
