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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