Precedence. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

    Wait till the majesty of Death
    Invests so mean a brow!
    Almost a powdered footman
    Might dare to touch it now!

    Wait till in everlasting robes
    This democrat is dressed,
    Then prate about “preferment”
    And “station” and the rest!

    Around this quiet courtier
    Obsequious angels wait!
    Full royal is his retinue,
    Full purple is his state!

    A lord might dare to lift the hat
    To such a modest clay,
    Since that my Lord, “the Lord of lords”
    Receives unblushingly!