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.

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (1)

.....a brilliant metaphor ★