THE SKY IS LOW, THE CLOUDS ARE MEAN by Emily Dickinson

THE  SKY  IS  LOW,  THE CLOUDS  ARE  MEAN by Emily Dickinson 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.