Poemsby Emily Dickinson

XXIV

 Afraid? Of whom am I afraid? Not death; for who is he? The porter of my father's lodge As much abasheth me. 
 Of life? 'T were odd I fear a thing That comprehendeth me In one or more existences At Deity's decree. 
 Of resurrection? Is the east Afraid to trust the morn With her fastidious forehead? As soon impeach my crown!