Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/186

 174 POEMS.


 * L.


 * THE SNOW.

T sifts from leaden sieves,
 * It powders all the wood,

It fills with alabaster wool The wrinkles of the road.

It makes an even face Of mountain and of plain, — Unbroken forehead from the east Unto the east again.

It reaches to the fence, It wraps it, rail by rail, Till it is lost in fleeces; It flings a crystal veil