We grow accustomed to the Dark -
When Light is put away -
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Good bye -
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 – Darknesses -
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.
Emily Dickinson
