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 —