 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
147
XXXV.
EMANCIPATION.
No rack can torture me,
My soul's at liberty.
Behind this mortal bone
There knits a bolder one
My soul's at liberty.
Behind this mortal bone
There knits a bolder one
You cannot prick with saw,
Nor rend with scymitar.
Two bodies therefore be;
Bind one, and one will flee.
Nor rend with scymitar.
Two bodies therefore be;
Bind one, and one will flee.
The eagle of his nest
No easier divest
And gain the sky,
Than mayest thou,
No easier divest
And gain the sky,
Than mayest thou,
Except thyself may be
Thine enemy;
Captivity is consciousness,
So 's liberty.
Thine enemy;
Captivity is consciousness,
So 's liberty.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |