He Fumbles At Your Spirit

He fumbles at your spirit
As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on;
He stuns you by degrees,

Prepares your brittle substance
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.

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (3)

....love this, a most incredible write with some stunning lines ★
a uneque concept here in this poem.Emily did a superb job
Yes, a very good one. I always wanted Emily for a girlfriend.