Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

The soul unto itself
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.

1. A Shady Friend for Torrid Days
2. Sight
3. Portraits Are to Daily Faces
4. The Goal
5. The Butterfly's Assumption-Gown

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