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.
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.
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As a Sophmore in High School Years ago (53), we were to memorize this poem. Sometimes Nature can be as UGLY as we are and sometimes it can be as PRETTY as we are. Nothing stays the same. However, PRETTY is much better than UGLY. So goes life. I never forgot this poem after all these years.