Golden Histories, etc :: :: University of Virginia Library

Clouds in April, large and white,
Freighted full of silver light,
Sail above the tallest trees,
Run before the chasing breeze,
Roll around the hills that lift
Heaven aloft, or, fierce and swift,
In tumultuous splendour fall
Over the round world's blue wall.

Clouds in August, when the glow
Of the level sun is low,
Crowd the sky with pomp, and seem
Fragments of some land of dream:
Scarlet, purple, dun, and gold,
Wreath on wreath, and fold on fold;
Hall and castle, dome and bower,
Faëry-built at twilight hour.

Clouds in Winter, when the West
In soft amber flame is drest,
Float before the frosty breeze—
Silver snow on silent seas;

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Or they peep thro' tracery fine,
Windowed boughs of larch or pine,
Like the faces saintly men
Once have seen to see agen.

Clouds to me, in early Spring
Or in later Winter, bring
Messages of calm delight,
Thoughts of still and central might,
Feelings sweeter than the tears
Lovers weep o'er love's dead years,
Holier than the tidings told
By pale seers to ages old.

Then I see lost Eden's streams;
Dream as poet rarely dreams;
Hear enormous trumpets blown,
As when gods are overthrown;
See the far-off sunlit shore,
Where I wandered when of yore
Angels showed me all the shells
Wherein Beauty hides her spells,
While they taught my vernal youth,
Many an old celestial truth.

Cloudlike, thus on clouds I live,
Gladly take what clouds can give:
Fairy feelings, thoughts like flowers,
In my manhood's mellower hours,
As in those ‘first-violet’ days,
Do they bring for love and praise.