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

  • * Sunprincess * (11/19/2015 7:14:00 AM)

    ....love this, a most incredible write with some stunning lines ★(Report)Reply

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  • Brian JaniBrian Jani (7/12/2014 9:11:00 AM)

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

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

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

    1 person liked.
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Read poems about / on: music, time

Poem Submitted: Monday, May 14, 2001

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