 | Our Holiday Among The Hills |  |
CLOUDS.
Through all the day, in sunshine and in cloud,My heart was weighted with prophetic woe—
“Thus,” in the cloud, I dreamt, “will grief o'erflow
My smiling plains of joy, and care-weeds crowd
My sunny gardens, by young love endowed:”
And in the sunshine, “This will shortly go;
Let me not trust therein; too well I know
To none is constant happiness allowed.”—
—Whence come these roseate shores that wide outroll?
Those ebon rocks and flowery islets far
Make with that amber sea a perfect whole.
To love, all things add beauty; nought can mar.—
The sunset sweeps misgivings off my soul,
And peace drops from the wings of the first star.
| Our Holiday Among The Hills | |