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 the letting go | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALL GOATS by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH LEARNING TO READ by FRANCES ELLEN WATKINS HARPER THE LAY OF THE LABOURER by THOMAS HOOD THE SURRENDER AT APPOMATTOX [APRIL 9, 1865] by HERMAN MELVILLE WINTER, FR. LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 2. ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE, 1740 by MARK AKENSIDE |