#258 Emily Dickinson

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons −
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes −

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us −
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are −

None may teach it − Any −
'Tis the Seal Despair −
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air −

When it comes, the Landscape listens −
Shadows − hold their breath −
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death −