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Wait till the Majesty of Death
Invests so mean a brow!
Almost a powdered Footman
Might dare to touch it now!
Wait till in Everlasting Robes
That Democrat is dressed,
Then prate about “Preferment”-
And “Station,” and the rest!
Around this quiet Courtier
Obsequious Angels wait!
Full royal is his Retinue!
Full purple is his state!
A Lord, might dare to lift the Hat
To such a Modest Clay
Since that My Lord, “the Lord of Lords”
Receives unblushingly!
Wait Till The Majesty Of Death
Emily Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: death, purple, touch, majesty, quiet, wait, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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About Wait Till The Majesty Of Death
Wait Till The Majesty Of Death is a poem by Emily Dickinson. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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