Emily Dickinson - Along The Potomac lyrics

When I was small, a woman died. To-day her only boy Went up from the Potomac, His face all victory, To look at her; how slowly The seasons must have turned Till bullets clipt an angle, And he pa**ed quickly round! If pride shall be in Paradise I never can decide; Of their imperial conduct, No person testified. But proud in apparition, That woman and her boy Pa** back and forth before my brain, As ever in the sky.