The soul selects her own society

Alistair Hinton

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.