’T WAS a long parting, but the time
For interview had come;
Before the judgment-seat of God,
The last and second time
These fleshless lovers met,
A heaven in a gaze,
A heaven of heavens, the privilege
Of one another’s eyes.
No lifetime set on them,
Apparelled as the new
Unborn, except they had beheld,
Born everlasting now.
Was bridal e’er like this?
A paradise, the host,
And cherubim and seraphim
The most familiar guest.
This one is titled “Resurrection” in my copy of Dickinson’s poems. “Perfect for Easter!” I thought, and then, “Oh, come on, Emily,” when I read it and saw that it is actually a love poem. Just when you think she can only write about death (or orioles) she takes death and turns it into a poem about undying love.
But then, when you think about it, isn’t that what Easter is–a love story?