Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MASTER, by EMILY DICKINSON



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THE MASTER, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: He fumbles at your spirit [or, soul]
Last Line: That scalps your naked soul.
Subject(s): God


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.




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