Snow Flakes
I counted till they danced soTheir slippers leaped the town –And then I took a pencilTo note the rebels down –And then they grew so jollyI did resign the prig –And ten of my once stately toesAre marshalled for a jig! Emily Dickinson
The Poets light but Lamps —
Themselves — go out —The Wicks they stimulateIf vital Light Inhere as do the Suns —Each Age a LensDisseminating theirCircumference — Emily Dickinson