Emily Dickinson Poem

Bless God, he went as soldiers

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Bless God, he went as soldiers,

His musket on his breast—

Grant God, he charge the bravest

Of all the martial blest!

 

Please God, might I behold him

In epauletted white—

I should not fear the foe then—

I should not fear the fight!

Bloom upon the Mountain—stated
Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple

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