Emily Dickinson - The Lightning playeth—all the while lyrics

630 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 Ba** Alarms us—tho' His Yellow feet May pa**—and counterpa** Upon the Ropes—above our Head Continual—with the News Nor We so much as check our speech Nor stop to cross Ourselves