390
It's coming—the postponeless Creature—
It gains the Block—and now—it gains the Door—
Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings—
Enters—with a "You know Me—Sir"?
Simple Salute—and certain Recognition—
Bold—were it Enemy—Brief—were it friend—
Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle—
And carries one—out of it—to God—
Emily Dickinson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-coming-the-postponeless-creature/
