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Laurel Grove Cemetery, Savannah

The feet of people walking home
With gayer sandals go–
The crocus–till she rises–
The vassal of the snow–
The lips at Hallelujah
Long years of practice bore–
Till bye and bye, these Bargemen
Walked–singing–on the shore.

Pearls are the Diver’s farthings,
Extorted from the sea–
Pinions–the Seraph’s wagon–
Pedestrian once–as we–
Night is the morning’s canvas–
Death–but our rapt attention
To immortality

My figures fail to tell me
How far the village lies–
Whose peasants are the angels–
Whose cantons dot the skies–
My Classics vail their faces–
My faith that Dark adores–
Which from its solemn abbeys–
Such resurrection pours!
~~Emily Dickinson, c. summer 1858