Emily Dickinson

Exclusion (The Soul Selects Her Own Society)

The soul selects her own society,
  Then shuts the door;
  On her divine majority
  Obtrude no more.
  Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s pausing
  At her low gate;
  Unmoved, an emperor is 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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