Poem

The Soul Selects Her Own Society

Emily Dickinson
The Soul selects her own Society -- Then -- shuts the Door -- To her divine Majority -- Present no more -- Unmoved -- she notes the Chariots -- pausing -- At her low Gate -- Unmoved -- an Emperor be kneeling Upon her Mat -- I've known her -- from an ample nation -- Choose One -- Then -- close the Valves of her attention -- Like Stone --

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