The Sky is low — the Clouds are mean.
A Travelling Flake of Snow
Across a Barn or through a Rut
Debates if it will go —
A Narrow Wind complains all Day
How some one treated him
Nature, like Us is sometimes caught
Without her Diadem.
(Emily Dickinson)
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Based on Topics: Nature Poems, Snow Poems, Travelling PoemsBased on Keywords: barn, treated, diadem, flake, debates, rut, complains