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—

---Emily Dickinson

 

 

Hello!  I haven’t gotten the pictures up on my site yet, but Kent’s dad has a lot on his.

Check them out at www.kristensen.us

And keep checking here too!