There’s a Certain Slant of Light Richard Pearson Thomas

There’s a certain slant of light
On winter afternoons
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar
But internal difference
Where the meanings are

None may teach it anything
‘T is the seal, despair, –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air

When it comes, the landscape listens
Shadows hold their breath;
When it goes, ‘t is like the distance
On the look of death