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The Titans

by Charles M. Doughty

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Sought other to vain kingdom of moist clouds;
Skys unstaied flocks, without continuance:
Whereof there hang some, on World-mountains flanks;
In guise of flocs of wool, caught in the thorns.
Some, (which pavilions of air-riding spirits;)
Are listed, as with gold, and dyed in blood.
Other swart-hewed, fleet, big with tempests' wreak.
Udders of heaven some are. Wind-driven the most

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Fleet, changeful daughters of the liquid loft;
With tawny outblown locks. Some reared on height,
Seem steepy uprolling hills of snow: but hardly
Endure till morrows day.
Much stormy rack
Gathers those Messengers round. Clouds have no mouth,
Wherein is speech: but loudly rumbling! riven
With lightning tongues; seemed they to grant their asking.