"He Fumbles at Your Soul"by Emily DickinsonHe fumbles at your SoulAs Players at the Keys -Before they drop full Music on -He stuns you by Degrees -Prepares your brittle natureFor the ethereal BlowBy fainter Hammers - further heard -Then nearer
The quality of mercy is not strain'd.It droppeth as the gentle rain from heavenUpon the place beneath. It is twice blest:It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.