 | The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road |  |
213
SUNSET CLOUDS.
Taloned with lightning, in the west—
Beneath whose breath the woods are bowed—
Like some vast monster o'er its nest,
There sweeps a cloud.
Beneath whose breath the woods are bowed—
Like some vast monster o'er its nest,
There sweeps a cloud.
And near and far a blackness falls,
And Fear has no safe place to hide;
Then echoing through the sky's huge halls
There goes a stride.
And Fear has no safe place to hide;
Then echoing through the sky's huge halls
There goes a stride.
And then a bow of flame is bent;
An arrow speeds, a burning wire;
The cloud's great heart is torn and rent,
And vomits fire.
An arrow speeds, a burning wire;
The cloud's great heart is torn and rent,
And vomits fire.
Its huge wings droop; its bosom bleeds;
And, drowned in blood, it turns a fawn,
Whom night, o'er blue and starry meads,
Hunts on and on.
And, drowned in blood, it turns a fawn,
Whom night, o'er blue and starry meads,
Hunts on and on.
| The Poet and Nature and The Morning Road | |