After great pain, a formal feeling comes-- <br />The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Toombs-- <br />The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, <br />And Yesterday, or Centuries before? <br /> <br />The Feet, mechanical, go round-- <br />Of Ground, or Air, or Ought-- <br />A Wooden way <br />Regardless grown, <br />A Quartz contentment, like a stone-- <br /> <br />This is the Hour of Lead-- <br />Remembered, if outlived, <br />As Freezing persons recollect the Snow-- <br />First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go--<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/after-great-pain-a-formal-feeling-comes/
