quinta-feira, fevereiro 03, 2005

The soul selects her own society

The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the Door;
On her divine Majority
Obtrude 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.

(Emily Dickinson)

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