The Poems of Emily Dickinson, Variorum Edition, Franklin, 1998
Emily Dickinson Archive
The Lightning playeth - all the while -But when He singeth - then - Ourselves are conscious He exist - And we approach Him - stern - With Insulators - and a Glove -Whose short - sepulchral Bass Alarms us - tho' His Yellow feet May pass - and counterpass - Opon the Ropes - above our Head - Continual - with the News -Nor We so much as check our speech - Nor stop to cross Ourselves -