After great pain, a formal feeling comes -- The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs The stiff Heart questions, was it She, 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 -- -- then the letting go -- -- then the letting go --
Posted on: Wed, 07 Aug 2013 02:29:26 +0000
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