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. On the Tleakness of My Lot
2. Possession
3. The Moon Is Distant from the Sea
4. Triumph
5. Going

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