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
Then close the valves of her attention
Owing to the visitor’s weird grooming habits and perplexing necktie.