Author 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. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments