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Wiersz I felt a Funeral, in my Brain

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–


Wiersz I felt a Funeral, in my Brain - Emily Dickinson