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 the 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 discloses 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 Darkness alters
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight,
And life steps almost straight.