It sifts from Leaden Sieves
BY
EMILY DICKINSON
1830–1886
Emily Dickinson
| It 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 deals Celestial Vail |
| To Stump, and Stack - and Stem — | |
| A Summer’s empty Room — | |
| Acres of Joints, where Harvests were, | |
| Recordless, but for them — |
| It Ruffles Wrists of Posts | |
| As Ankles of a Queen — | |
| Then stills its Artisans — like Ghosts — | |
| Denying they have been — |