EMILY DICKINSON III

8

There is a word
Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man -
It hurls its barbed syllables
And is mute again -
But where it fell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted Brother
Gave his breath away.

Wherever runs the breathless sun -
Wherever roams the day -
There is its noiseless onset -
There is its victory!
Behold the keenest marksman!
The most accomplished shot!
Time's sublimest target
Is a soul "forgot!"