The Martyrs

________________________________________________
Title:     The Martyrs
Author: Emily Dickinson [More Titles by Dickinson]

Through the straight pass of suffering
The martyrs even trod,
Their feet upon temptation,
Their faces upon God.

A stately, shriven company;
Convulsion playing round,
Harmless as streaks of meteor
Upon a planet's bound.

Their faith the everlasting troth;
Their expectation fair;
The needle to the north degree
Wades so, through polar air.

[The end]
Emily Dickinson's poem: Martyrs

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN