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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 13 of 446 · First Series: Life

Exclusion

— ✻ —

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.

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