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Delayed till she had ceased to know

 Delayed till she had ceased to know --
Delayed till in its vest of snow
Her loving bosom lay --
An hour behind the fleeting breath --
Later by just an hour than Death --
Oh lagging Yesterday!

Could she have guessed that it would be --
Could but a crier of the joy
Have climbed the distant hill --
Had not the bliss so slow a pace
Who knows but this surrendered face
Were undefeated still?

Oh if there may departing be
Any forgot by Victory
In her imperial round --
Show them this meek appareled thing
That could not stop to be a king --
Doubtful if it be crowned!

by Emily Dickinson
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