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
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.

- Emily Dickinson