Here you will find thePoemAngels, in the early morningof poet Emily Dickinson
94 Angels, in the early morning May be seen the Dews among, Stooping—plucking—smiling—flying— Do the Buds to them belong? Angels, when the sun is hottest May be seen the sands among, Stooping—plucking—sighing—flying— Parched the flowers they bear along.
