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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 110 of 446 · First Series: Time and Eternity

Emancipation

— ✻ —

No rack can torture me, 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.

The eagle of his nest No easier divest And gain the sky, Than mayest thou,

Except thyself may be Thine enemy; Captivity is consciousness, So's liberty.

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