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Emily Dickinson's Collected Poems

Part One: Life 38. Through the straight pass of suffering

THE MARTYRS.


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.

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