Emily Dickinson - #280 lyrics

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 − And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down − And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing − then −