Page:Emily Dickinson Poems (1890).djvu/155

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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.