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After great pain, a formal feeling comes
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--
Hunger
I HAD been hungry, all the Years--
My Noon had Come--to dine--
I, trembling, drew the Table near--
And touched the Curious Wine--
'Twas this on Tables I had seen--
When turning, hungry, Home
I looked in Windows, for the Wealth
I could not hope--for Mine--
I did not know the ample Bread--
'Twas so unlike the Crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature's Dining-Room--
The Plenty hurt me--'twas so new--
Myself felt ill--and odd--
As Berry--of A Mountain Bush
Transplanted--to the Road--
Nor was I hungry--so I found
That Hunger--was a way
Of Persons outside Windows--
The Entering--takes away--
"Faith" is a fine invention
"FAITH" is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see--
But Microsopes are prudent
In an Emergency.
Emily Dickinson
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