Author Emily Dickinson 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. Tags memory pain Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments