Emily Dickinson - The Sky is low the Clouds are few

The Sky is low, the Clouds are few,
The sun is far away –
And yet its beams are poised to land
Across these tiny fray.

A peaceful day retreats and falls,
It lingers, softly frail –
While twilight beckons with a smile
As day meets night, the veil.

Still Evening takes the babes in arms
And rolls the daylight score,
To pitch among the forest’s arms
And close the rural door.

“The Sky is low, the Clouds are few”