A throe upon the features
A hurry in the breath,
An ecstasy of parting
Denominated "Death," —
An anguish at the mention,
Which, when to patience grown,
I 've known permission given
To rejoin its own.
XXXIX.
SAVED!
Of tribulation these are they
Denoted by the white;
The spangled gowns, a lesser rank
Of victors designate.
All these did conquer; but the ones
Who overcame most times
Wear nothing commoner than snow,
No ornament but palms.
Surrender is a sort unknown
On this superior soil;
Defeat, an outgrown anguish,
Remembered as the mile
Our panting ankle barely gained
When night devoured the road;
But we stood whispering in the house,
And all we said was "Saved"!
XL.
I think just how my shape will rise
When I shall be forgiven,
Till hair and eyes and timid head
Are out of sight, in heaven.