Too late

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  "title": "Too late",
  "author": "Emily Dickinson",
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  "summary": "This poem reflects on the themes of missed opportunities and the irrevocable passage of time, encapsulating the emotional weight of arriving too late to change a loved one's fate. The narrator laments an arrival that has been delayed too long, arriving only after the person it concerns has already passed away. It ponders the possibilities of what might have been if there had been some forewarning or if the joys of life had come swifter. The final stanza addresses the concept of victory and loss, suggesting that even in supposed triumph one can feel the absence of those who couldn't wait to see it. Through contemplative and poignant language, the poem reminds readers of the delicate balance of life's timing and the sorrow that can accompany delays.",
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    "Delayed till she had ceased to know, Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay. An hour behind the fleeting breath, Later by just an hour than death,— Oh, lagging yesterday!",
    "Could she have guessed that it would be; Could but a crier of the glee Have climbed the distant hill; Had not the bliss so slow a pace,— Who knows but this surrendered face Were undefeated still?",
    "Oh, if there may departing be Any forgot by victory In her imperial round, Show them this meek apparelled thing, That could not stop to be a king, Doubtful if it be crowned!"
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  "body_text": "Delayed till she had ceased to know, Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay. An hour behind the fleeting breath, Later by just an hour than death,— Oh, lagging yesterday!\n\nCould she have guessed that it would be; Could but a crier of the glee Have climbed the distant hill; Had not the bliss so slow a pace,— Who knows but this surrendered face Were undefeated still?\n\nOh, if there may departing be Any forgot by victory In her imperial round, Show them this meek apparelled thing, That could not stop to be a king, Doubtful if it be crowned!",
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    "Could she have guessed that it would be; Could but a crier of the glee Have climbed the distant hill; Had not the bliss so slow a pace, - Who knows but this surrendered face Were undefeated still?",
    "Oh, if there may departing be Any forgot by victory In her imperial round, Show them this meek apparelled thing, That could not stop to be a king, Doubtful if it be crowned!"
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  "clean_text": "Delayed till she had ceased to know, Delayed till in its vest of snow Her loving bosom lay. An hour behind the fleeting breath, Later by just an hour than death, - Oh, lagging yesterday!\n\nCould she have guessed that it would be; Could but a crier of the glee Have climbed the distant hill; Had not the bliss so slow a pace, - Who knows but this surrendered face Were undefeated still?\n\nOh, if there may departing be Any forgot by victory In her imperial round, Show them this meek apparelled thing, That could not stop to be a king, Doubtful if it be crowned!",
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    "Could she have guessed that it would be; Could but a crier of the glee Have climbed the distant hill; Had not the bliss so slow a pace, - Who knows but this surrendered face Were undefeated still?",
    "Oh, if there may departing be Any forgot by victory In her imperial round, Show them this meek apparelled thing, That could not stop to be a king, Doubtful if it be crowned!"
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