Poems ✍️
  06.05.2025
  17

Author: Emily Dickinson

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.


  weather Nature emotion change

Share on social networks:
Facebook | VK | WhatsApp | Telegram | Twitter

Take a look 👇

  All Forgot For Recollecting ᐈ
  Autumn&Mdash;Overlooked My Knitting ᐈ
  As Everywhere Of Silver ᐈ
  Funny—to Be A Century ᐈ
  Crumbling Is Not An Instant's Act ᐈ

Write a review