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Monday, March 14, 2005
EMILY MONDAY

258

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 [it causes an] internal difference,
Where the Meanings [in us], 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 --