by 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 –
Robin's Nest 