147
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!
Back to Emily Dickinson
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.
Comments1Emily Dickson rlly caputures emotion - "musket on his breast"