God permit industrious angels <br />Afternoons to play. <br />I met one, -- forgot my school-mates, <br />All, for him, straightaway. <br /> <br />God calls home the angels promptly <br />At the setting sun; <br />I missed mine. How dreary marbles, <br />After playing the Crown!<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/god-permit-industrious-angels/
