The Inevitable. By Emily Dickinson

    While I was fearing it, it came,
    But came with less of fear,
    Because that fearing it so long
    Had almost made it dear.
    There is a fitting a dismay,
    A fitting a despair.
    ‘Tis harder knowing it is due,
    Than knowing it is here.
    The trying on the utmost,
    The morning it is new,
    Is terribler than wearing it
    A whole existence through.