The Soul Selects her own Society –

then – shuts the door –

to her divine majority –

Present 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.

The Manuscript Books of Emily Dickinson, Franklin; Fascicle 20, H66; Belknap Harvard