Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
There’s a certain slant of light
1There’s a certain slant of light,
2On winter afternoons,
3That oppresses, like the weight
4Of cathedral tunes.
5Heavenly hurt it gives us;
6We can find no scar,
7But internal difference
8Where the meanings are.
9None may teach it anything,
10’Tis the seal, despair,–
11An imperial affliction
12Sent us of the air.
13When it comes, the landscape listens,
14Shadows hold their breath;
15When it goes, ’tis like the distance
16On the look of death.
literary lew 
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