At the Music Concourse in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco 2010
Dear Polly*,
Having been reading your diary, and fallen asleep, I was suddenly awakened to a poem by an Emily Dickinson. Perhaps you have read it before?
One dignity delays for all.
One mitred afternoon.
None can avoid this purple,
None evade this crown.
Coach it insures, and footmen,
Chamber and state and throng;
Bells, also, in the village,
As we ride grand along.
What dignified attendants,
What service when we pause!
How loyally at parting
Their hundred hats they raise!
How pomp surpassing ermine,
When simple you and I
Present our meek escutcheon,
And claim the rank to die.
*Evelyn (nee Pollard) Hund, my maternal grandmother
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