S de Solidão (ou C de Comunidade) XX

To Abiah Root


After the sudden death, at the age of twenty-seven, of Leonard Humphrey, a favourite teacher.
Amherst, January 2, 1851

I write A. to-night, because it’s cool and quiet, and I can forget the toil and care of the feverish day, and then I am selfish too, because I am feeling lonely; some of my friends are gone, and some of my friends are sleeping – sleeping the churchyard sleep – the hour of evening is sad – it was once my study hour – my master has gone to rest, and the open leaf of the book, and the scholar at school alone, make the tears come, and I cannot brush them away; I would not if I could, for they are the only tribute I can pay the departed Humphrey.
You have stood by the grave before; I have walked there sweet summer evenings and read the names on the stones, and wondered who would come and give me the same memorial; but I never have laid my friends there, and forgot that they too must die; this is my first affliction, and indeed ‘tis hard to bear it. To those bereaved so often that home is no more here, and whose communion with friends is had only in prayers, there must be much to hope for, but when the unreconciled spirit has nothing left but God, that spirit is lone indeed. I don’t think there will be any sunshine, or any singing-birds in the spring that’s coming… I will try not to say any more – my rebellious thoughts are many, and the friend I love and trust in has much now to forgive. I wish I were somebody else […].

E.

Emily Dickinson, Letters, Everyman’s Library, 2011