It Always Felt To Me-a Wrong
Emily Dickinson
597 It always felt to me—a wrong To that Old Moses—done— To let him see—the Canaan— Without the entering— And tho’ in soberer moments— No Moses there can be I’m satisfied—the Romance In point of injury— Surpasses sharper stated— Of Stephen—or of Paul— For these—were only put to death— While God’s adroiter will On Moses—seemed to fasten With tantalizing Play As Boy—should deal with lesser Boy— To prove ability. The fault—was doubtless Israel’s— Myself—had banned the Tribes— And ushered Grand Old Moses In Pentateuchal Robes Upon the Broad Possession ’Twas little—But titled Him—to see— Old Man on Nebo! Late as this— My justice bleeds—for Thee!
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