There's a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight 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 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 15 by CONRAD AIKEN NOT TRANSHISTORICAL DEATH, OR AT LEAST NOT QUITE by HAYDEN CARRUTH CIRCE by AUGUSTA DAVIES WEBSTER SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE (WASHINGTON CITY, 1865) by WALT WHITMAN DANUBE AND THE EUXINE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN MY DEMAND by MARION L. BERTRAND BUILDING THE LIBRARY, TOKYO UNIVERSITY; NIGHT SCENE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |