315 (He fumbles at your soul), by Emily Dickinson

5 November 2012

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 their Paws —
The Universe — is still —

[Read in Everyman’s Selected Poems. Ripped from http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/he-fumbles-at-your-soul/.]

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