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He fumbles at your Soul As Players at the Key

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 .

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by:- admin posted in:- emily dickinson

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