Along the Potomac
Emily Dickinson
1830 to 1886
When I was small, a woman died.
To-day her only boy
Went up from the Potomac,
His face all victory,
To look at her; how slowly
The seasons must have turned
Till bullets clipt an angle,
And he passed quickly round!
If pride shall be in Paradise
I never can decide;
Of their imperial conduct,
No person testified.
But proud in apparition,
That woman and her boy
Pass back and forth before my brain,
As ever in the sky.
Emily Dickinson's Along the Potomac
I am busy working to bring Emily Dickinson's "Along the Potomac" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
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