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 ––

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,

And I dropped down, and down ––

And hit a World, at every plunge,

And Finished knowing –– then ––

~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)