Author George Eliot This man's metallic; at a sudden blow His soul rings hard. I cannot lay my palm, Trembling with life, upon that jointed brass. I shudder at the cold unanswering touch; But if it press me in response, I'm bruised. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments