The Experience of Pain and Shock

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 -
A Wooden way
Of Ground, or Air, or Ought -
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 letting go -


Emily Dickinson
The Poems of Emily Dickinson (Franklin), 372