Emily Dickinson: Verses about Respect

All men for Honor hardest work
But are not known to earn -
Paid after they have ceased to work
In Infamy or Urn -

Glory is that bright tragic thing
That for an instant
Means Dominion -
Warms some poor name
That never felt the Sun,
Gently replacing
In oblivion -

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I had the Glory—that will do—
An Honor, Thought can turn her to
When lesser Fames invite—
With one long "Nay"—
Bliss' early shape
Deforming—Dwindling—Gulfing up—
Time's possibility.