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After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes

Written by Emily Dickinson

After great pain, a formal feeling comes-- The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Toombs-- The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round-- Of Ground, or Air, or Ought-- A Wooden way Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone-- This is the Hour of Lead-- Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons recollect the Snow-- First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go-- Add as favourites (10) Be first to comment this poem Write Comment Name: E-mail Title: BBCode: Comment: Code:* I wish to be contacted by email regarding additional comments

 

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