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

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

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

When it comes, the Landscape listens —
Shadows - hold their breadth —
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death —

- Emily Dickinson

Recommend this article...