After great pain, a formal feeling comes
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Toombs
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
A Quartz contentment, like a stone
As Freezing persons recollect the Snow
First-Chill-then Stupor-then the letting go
The queen of irony and black pain- I present- Emily Dickinson...