The Shelter.

A poem by Emily Dickinson

The body grows outside, --
The more convenient way, --
That if the spirit like to hide,
Its temple stands alway

Ajar, secure, inviting;
It never did betray
The soul that asked its shelter
In timid honesty.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'The Shelter.' by Emily Dickinson

comments powered by Disqus