"

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 internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are -

None may teach it - Any -
‘Tis the Seal Despair -
Sent uf of the Air -

When it comes, the Landscape listens -
Shadows - hold their breath 0
When it goes, ‘tis like the Distance
On the look of Death -

"

— Emily Dickinson (I officially fail this final.)