When I was small, a Woman died

To look at her — How slowly

The Seasons must have turned

Till Bullets clipt an Angle

And He passed quickly round —

If pride shall be in Paradise —

Ourself cannot decide —

Of their imperial Conduct —

No person testified —

But, proud in Apparition —

That Woman and her Boy

Pass back and forth, before my Brain

As even in the sky —

I'm confident that Bravoes —

Perpetual break abroad

For Braveries, remote as this

In Scarlet Maryland —