Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

The Book of Martyrs

Read, sweet, how others strove,
Till we are stouter;
What they renounced,
Till we are less afraid;
How many times they bore
The faithful witness,
Till we are helped,
As if a kingdom cared!

Read then of faith
That shone above the fagot;
Clear strains of hymn
The river could not drown;
Brave names of men
And celestial women,
Passed out of record
Into renown!

1. The Brain Within Its Groove
2. Suspense
3. Unreturning
4. The Bee Is Not Afraid of Me
5. To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave

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