After great pain, a formal feeling comes -- <br />The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs <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-341/
