by EMILY DICKINSON
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