Emily Dickinson

poems:

15

we grow accustomed to the dark

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 darkness 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.

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