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. Emily Dickinson
1 Comments:
I've read quite a few of her stuff, although simple, I think at the time , that was the norm.
Subtle touches love, subtle touches :).
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