Poem 5 (J 280: 1861/1896)

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 were all 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--


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