And Staples in the Song...

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 opon 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 -

***

I often think of the line, "The soul has bandaged moments." Sometimes I wonder, what moment isn't bandaged. There are so many images in this poem by Emily Dickinson, the poem itself is almost like a collage. Look at the next-to-last stanza, where you think there's going to be some relief—"retaken moments"—but no, "retaken" seems to be even worse than "bandaged," because the soul has become a prisoner to that stapled song...

Seriously, "And staples, in the song." I wish I'd written that line!