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[The book printer - Amman]

Emily Dickinson : 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.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)	P.1896


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