“Can it be very wrong / To dream of ways I did not tread? / To weep for words I never said?”

[larryhammer]

For Poetry Monday, back further to Dickinson again:

We grow accustomed to the Dark, Emily Dickinson

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.


Written around 1862.

---L.

Subject quote from A Prayer, Mary Dixon Thayer.