That no Flake of [snow] fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.
Emily DickinsonWe do not play on Graves— Because there isn't Room— Besides—it isn't even—it slants And People come— And put a Flower on it— And hang their faces so— We're fearing that their Hearts will drop— And crush our pretty play— And so we move as far As Enemies—away— Just looking round to see how far It is—Occasionally—
Emily Dickinson