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--
--Emily Dickinson