He Fumbles At Your Spirit Poem by Emily Dickinson
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.
Yes, a very good one. I always wanted Emily for a girlfriend.
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10/12/2024 11:10:57 PM # 1.0.0
....love this, a most incredible write with some stunning lines ★