The Soul has Bandaged moments —
When too appalled to stir —
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her —

Salute her — with long fingers —
Caress her freezing hair —
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover — hovered — o’er —
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme — so — fair —

The soul has moments of Escape —
When bursting all the doors —
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,

As do the Bee — delirious borne —
Long Dungeoned from his Rose —
Touch Liberty — then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise —

The Soul’s retaken moments —
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,

The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue —

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3 Comments

  1. lulu says:

    i think emily dickinson is a hot mama. just this poem makes me cry at night. i read it all the time to my little kids. they tell me how they hate her and how they wanna write her hatemail. i wonder though if shes still alive and if they could do that. i heard shes out on the streets selling her body to get food on the table. dear ole emily best keep her knickers hidden. they be all dusty and saggy. nobody would want to tap that with a broom stick and call it a dill dog damned night. oo i wish my best luck to emily. shes my favorite hooker poet.

  2. Suzie says:

    I think this is the most powerful poem of dickinsons, which conveys the opressivness perfectly. while studying for my leaving cert i got the idea from the lines “shackles on the plumed feet And staples, in the Song” to compare this poem to “Hope-is a thing with feathers” I dont know if this is intentional but the image of a bird being “hope” and how in this poem it is shackled and stapled, i found to be incredibly powerful.

  3. The Possum says:

    Without being a huge fan of Dickinson, I have to suggest that this is a hugely powerful piece. Her depression is so complete that her poetry only rings true when expressing hurt and pain, and in no other poem is this expressed so fully. The inevitability of her recession into depression,”The Horror welcomes her, again,” is astonishingly disturbing. She was a depressive who writes poems and not a poet who was depressed yet this poem alone makes her poetry worthy.

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