Emily Dickinson: The Soul Selects Her Own Society

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

Wystan Hugh Auden: That Night When Joy Began

That night when joy began
Our narrowest veins to flush,
We waited for the flash
Of morning's levelled gun.

But morning let us pass,
And day by day relief
Outgrows his nervous laugh,
Grown credulous of peace,

As mile by mile is seen
No trespasser's reproach,
And love's best glasses reach
No fields but are his own.