Poems ✍️
  18.05.2025
  4

Author: Emily Dickinson

The Sky Is Low, The Clouds Are Mean

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.


  Nature weather Melancholy imperfection

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