Monday, November 10, 2008

After Great Pain


After great pain, a formal feeling comes--
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs--
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--


Emily Dickinson

3 Comments:

Blogger BarbaraS said...

No-one did them quite like Emily, but in this context, with the worries that you've had lately, it's got a really strong resonance. Thanks for posting it, A.

7:10 pm  
Blogger Colin Will said...

I wish I could read this one this evening, rather than one or two of the more pious and platitudinous verses I'll be reading.

1:25 pm  
Blogger PI said...

That is a very powerful poem.

3:17 pm  

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