Emily Dickinson


I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading -- treading -- till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through -- 

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum -- 
Kept beating -- beating -- till I thought
My Mind was going numb -- 

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space -- began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here --

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down -- 
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing -- then --