Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

He Fumbles At Your Spirit - Poem by Emily Dickinson

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.


Comments about He Fumbles At Your Spirit by Emily Dickinson

  • Rookie - 184 Points Brian Jani (7/12/2014 9:11:00 AM)

    a uneque concept here in this poem.Emily did a superb job (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • Rookie Yacov Mitchenko (8/15/2009 10:56:00 AM)

    Yes, a very good one. I always wanted Emily for a girlfriend. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: music, time



Poem Submitted: Monday, May 14, 2001



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