Discover the white

It sifts from leaden sieves

 

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 flings a crystal veil.....

 

An extract of a poem made by Emely Dickinson

Done