A Prison gets to be a friend -- by Emily Dickinson
A Prison gets to be a friend -- Between its Ponderous face And Ours -- a Kinsmanship express -- And in its narrow Eyes --
We come to look with gratitude For the appointed Beam It deal us -- stated as our food -- And hungered for -- the same --
We learn to know the Planks -- That answer to Our feet -- So miserable a sound -- at first -- Nor ever now -- so sweet --
As plashing in the Pools -- When Memory was a Boy -- But a Demurer Circuit -- A Geometric Joy --
The Posture of the Key That interrupt the Day To Our Endeavor -- Not so real The Check of Liberty --
As this Phantasm Steel -- Whose features -- Day and Night -- Are present to us -- as Our Own -- And as escapeless -- quite --
The narrow Round -- the Stint -- The slow exchange of Hope -- For something passiver -- Content Too steep for lookinp up --
The Liberty we knew Avoided -- like a Dream -- Too wide for any Night but Heaven -- If That -- indeed -- redeem --
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