Emily Dickinson – We Grow Accustomed to the Dark
We grow accustomed to the Dark,
When Light is put away,
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Goodbye.
A Moment—We uncertain step
For newness of the night,
Then fit our Vision to the Dark,
And meet the Road erect.
And so of larger Darknesses,
Those Evenings of the Brain,
When not a Moon disclose a sign,
Or Star, come out, within.
The Bravest grope a little
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead,
But as they learn to see,
Either the Darkness alters
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight,
And Life steps almost straight.
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