 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
69
XLIV.
THE SHELTER.
The body grows outside,—
The more convenient way,—
That if the spirit like to hide,
Its temple stands alway
The more convenient way,—
That if the spirit like to hide,
Its temple stands alway
Ajar, secure, inviting;
It never did betray
The soul that asked its shelter
In timid honesty.
It never did betray
The soul that asked its shelter
In timid honesty.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |