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.
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 the letting go.
Remembered if outlived,
As freezing persons recollect the snow--
First chill, then stupor, then the letting go.
Emily Dickinson
Beautiful! Thank you.
ReplyDeleteLove Emily Dickinson...Beautiful..
ReplyDeleteKeeping you in prayer.
I'm so sorry for your loss. You and your family are in my prayers.
ReplyDeleteKeeping you in my thoughts and prayers.
ReplyDeleteThat is a great poem and the line, "this is the hour of lead" is one of the all time great lines in all American literature. Defintely the poem is one of my favorites.
ReplyDeleteIf you get a moment Joyce, check out my blog on my one year anniversary of meeting my son.
http://jscafenette.com/2011/05/18/one-year-anniversary/