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Emily Dickinson's Collected Poems

Part Three: Nature 80. The sky is low, the clouds are mean

BECLOUDED.


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.

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