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,
‘T is 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.
Credits
Emily Dickinson was an American poet of the 19th century, widely regarded as one of the most original voices in English-language poetry, known for her slant rhyme, compressed syntax, and unflinching examination of mortality. "There's a certain slant of light," written around 1861, is considered one of her finest meditations on consciousness and suffering, composed during the period of intense creative output she spent largely in seclusion in Amherst, Massachusetts.
