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I Felt a Funeral in My Brain
by Emily Dickinson

American poet. Began writing poetry, according to her own declaration, in the winter of 1861-62. All but a handful of her poems were unpublished in her lifetime. She left over a thousand manuscripts which were gradually collected and published by her sister Lavinia. The three volumes brought out between 1891 and 1896 revealed poems of a deeply personal and spiritual nature and showed startling originality. After this, further collections of her work emerged, as The Single Hound (1914), and Bolts of Melody (1945). Her letters and selected commentaries on her life and work were edited by Thomas H.Johnson and published in 1958.


I Felt a Funeral in My Brain
by Emily Dickinson

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.


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