XIII.

The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more,
Nor let in rude, smelly guests.

Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat,
And forgot to take off his shoes.

I’ve known her from an ample nation
Choose one;
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone,
Owing to the visitor’s weird grooming habits and perplexing necktie.

—

One of her most famous ones, of course. A couple short interpretations.