There's a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons
That opresses, 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, 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.