He Fumbles At Your Soul


by Emily Dickinson

He fumbles at your Soul
As Players at the Keys
Before they drop full Music on--
He stuns you by degrees-
Prepares your brittle Nature
For the Ethereal Blow
By fainter Hammers- further heard--
Then nearer--Then so slow
Your Breath has time to straighten-
Your Brain to bubble Cool--
Deals--One--imperial--Thunderbolt--
That scalps your naked Soul--

When Winds take Forests in their Paws-
The Universe--is still--

Emily Dickinson Page


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