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Thomas Cole's poetry

the collected poems of America's foremost painter of the Hudson River School reflecting his feelings for nature and the romantic spirit of the Nineteenth Century

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[16. A lonely cloud is flitting round the brow]

A lonely cloud is flitting round the brow
Of the dark barren mountain; but the glow
Of the unrisen sun illumes each fold
Transmuting blackness into living gold—
And so around my des'late soul does cling
One melancholy thought—a shadowy thing
Which from the world has sprung, in a dark hour
When the worst genius of my fate had power—
But hope is dawning—and its sun will rise
From death's deep ocean, and the distant skies
Already cast a tone delightful o'er my mind
And to my sojourn here shall make resign'd.
For Time will quickly waft me o'er that sea
When earthly sorrow cannot follow me.
Catskill 1832