There Is A Pain—so Utter

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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.

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (1)

Sing this to the tune of the Bach chorale, O sacred head, now wounded.