Poemsby Emily Dickinson

Trying to Forget


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.