It is sometimes almost unsettling how perfectly beautiful Dickinson can make death seem. There is always in her a real longing for the afterlife, a sense of beauty and wonderment that she perceives exists more consistently in death than in life.

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers –
Untouched by Morning –
and untouched by noon –
Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection,
Rafter of Satin and Roof of Stone –
Grand go the Years,
In the Crescent above them –
Worlds scoop their Arcs –
and Firmaments – row –
Diadems – drop –
And Doges surrender –
Soundless as Dots,
On a Disk of Snow.

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