Beclouded

by


Beclouded
John Constable, Extensive Landscape with Clouds
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.

6.5

facebook share button twitter share button reddit share button share on pinterest pinterest


Add Beclouded to your library.

Return to the Emily Dickinson library , or . . . Read the next poem; Bless God, he went as soldiers

© 2022 AmericanLiterature.com