God permit industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one, -- forgot my school-mates,
All, for him, straightaway.
God calls home the angels promptly
At the setting sun;
I missed mine. How dreary marbles,
After playing the Crown!
God Permit Industrious Angels
Emily Dickinson
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Poem topics: home, school, sun, crown, play, permit, god, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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