Emily Dickinson

10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts

There Is A Pain—so Utter -

599

There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
Then covers the Abyss with Trance—
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.
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