Poem

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 -- 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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