There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are –None may teach it – Any –
‘Tis the Seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –~ Emily Dickinson (10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)

She is another favorite.
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Here also.
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