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 -
— Эмили Дикинсон
