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.
--Emily Dickinson
also, here is a short video I made of Images that I really Love.
Note, that there is no intention for copyright infringement. I have borrowed these images from google image searches. Please contact me, if there is a problem, and I will immediately remove the image/video.
2 comments:
i can't read an Emily Dickenson poem without singing it to the tune of yankee doodle. i blame my 10th grade english teacher.
nooooooooooooooooooo!!! lol, now you've ruined it for me. Way to pay it forward, Anna. way to go. :-)
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