The Soul selects her own Society— by Emily Dickinson
Ah, Miss Emily…
The Soul selects her own Society—
By Emily Dickinson
The Soul selects her own Society—
Then—shuts the Door—
To her divine Majority—
Present no more—
Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pausing—
At her low Gate—
Unmoved—an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat—
I’ve known her—from an ample nation—
Choose One—
Then—close the Valves of her attention—
Like stone—
Current Tea: winter dreams (black tea with chocolate flavoring and peppermint leaves)
