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
Then close the valves of her attention
First print Life XIII, 13
Johnson 303 | Franklin 409
The text may be used under any of the following licenses:
CREATIVE COMMONS LICENSE 4.0, BY-SA 3.0, and LICENSE 2.5.
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