Wild night – Wild nights!

Wild nights – Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the Winds -–
To a Heart in port –
Done with the Compass --
Done with the Chart!

Rowing in Eden --
Ah – the Sea!
Might I but moor – tonight -–
In thee!

– Emily Dickinson

This is the Hour of Lead –

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow –

First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

– Emily Dickinson, from "After great pain, a formal feeling comes"

"Nature: LXXXII"

There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons,
That oppresses, like the weight
Of cathedral tunes.

Heavenly hurt it gives us;
We can find no scar,
But internal difference
Where the meanings are.

None may teach it anything,
'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, 't is like the distance
On the look of death.

– Emily Dickinson