The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Series Two
Time and Eternity, Poem 17: Triumph
by Emily Dickinson
Triumph may be of several kinds.
Triumph may be of several kinds.
One dignity delays for all
There came a wind like a bugle
That you were once unkind befriends me now
She sweeps with man-colored brooms
On this long storm the rainbow rose
Her final summer was it
Angels in the early morning
Death is a dialogue between
I had no cause to be awake
So are you to my thoughts as food to life
The sun kept setting, setting still;
An awful tempest mashed the air,
A half-past three a single bird
Much madness is divinest sense
Their height in heaven comforts not
Who never lost, are unprepared
Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
O never say that I was false of heart
Our share of night to bear
Alack what poverty my muse brings forth
I taste a liquor never brewed
Read, sweet, how others strove
Accuse me thus, that I have scanted all
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye