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.

First print Nature XXIX, 29
Johnson 1075 | Franklin 1121

■→IN POLISH

Text compared with the fascicle and prepared for publication by Teresa Pelka, available under any of the following licenses:
■Creative Commons License 4.0, BY-SA 3.0, and License 2.5.

■→Poems, first print by Higginson and Todd, page 103;
Post-positional comma, Debates, if it will go.

■Notes for Emily Dickinson’s poetry;
Poems one-by-one print and fascicle comparison,
■Resource for Emily Dickinson’s poetry;
■Google Drive, manuscript fascicles.