He Fumbles At Your Soul Poem by Emily Dickinson

He Fumbles At Your Soul

Rating: 3.5


315

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 the Paws—
The Universe—is still—

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
bloop 04 January 2019

It's take Forests in their Paws

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Rich Foss 10 April 2012

There seems to be a mistake in line 11.

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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Amherst / Massachusetts
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