Page:Emily Dickinson Poems (1890).djvu/34

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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 to her attention
Like stone.