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The clouds their backs together laid

by Emily Dickinson, 1890

The clouds their backs together laid,
The north begun to push,
The forests galloped till they fell,
The lightning skipped like mice;
The thunder crumbled like a stuff —
How good to be safe in tombs,
Where nature's temper cannot reach,
Nor vengeance ever comes!

Published in Poems by Emily Dickinson
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