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.
Exclusion.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
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Poem topics: soul, society, door, attention, divine, nation, stone, choose, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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