Poems (Dickinson)/Refuge

by Emily Dickinson

For works with similar titles, see Refuge.

For other versions of this work, see The Clouds their Backs together laid.

XVI.

REFUGE.

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!