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by Emily Dickinson

    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

    An imperial affliction

    Sent us of the air

    When it comes, the Landscape listens

    Shadows - hold their breath

    When it goes, 'tis like the Distance

    On the look of Death

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