| Emily Dickinson... |
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The Soul selects her own Society- Then- shuts the Door- To her divine Majority- Present no more- |
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Unmoved- she notes the Chariots- pausing- At her low Gate- Unmoved- an Emperor be kneeling Upon her Mat- |
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I've known her- from an ample nation- Choose One- Then- close the Valves of her attention- Like Stone- |
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