Except To Heaven, She Is Nought; By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Except to heaven, she is nought;
    Except for angels, lone;
    Except to some wide-wandering bee,
    A flower superfluous blown;

    Except for winds, provincial;
    Except by butterflies,
    Unnoticed as a single dew
    That on the acre lies.

    The smallest housewife in the grass,
    Yet take her from the lawn,
    And somebody has lost the face
    That made existence home!