Part One: Life XIII
Emily Dickinson
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.
Posted by purlprincess
at 8:23 AM EST
