Poems by Emily Dickinson: XLVII ("What soft, cherubic creatures")

What soft, cherubic creatures
These gentlewomen are!
One would as soon assault a plush
Or violate a star.

Such dimity convictions,
A horror so refined
Of freckled human nature,
Of Deity ashamed, —

It's such a common glory,
A fisherman's degree!
Redemption, brittle lady,
Be so, ashamed of thee.