 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
37
[XV. The soul unto itself]
The soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend,—
Or the most agonizing spy
An enemy could send.
Is an imperial friend,—
Or the most agonizing spy
An enemy could send.
Secure against its own,
No treason it can fear;
Itself its sovereign, of itself
The soul should stand in awe.
No treason it can fear;
Itself its sovereign, of itself
The soul should stand in awe.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |