The low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.

The low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light read more

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

I saw two clouds at morning
Tinged by the rising sun,
And in the dawn they floated read more

I saw two clouds at morning
Tinged by the rising sun,
And in the dawn they floated on
And mingled into one.

Were I a cloud I'd gather
My skirts up in the air,
And fly well know whither,
read more

Were I a cloud I'd gather
My skirts up in the air,
And fly well know whither,
And rest I well know where.

Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

Who covereth thyself with light as a garment: who stretchest out
the heavens like a curtain:
Who layeth read more

Who covereth thyself with light as a garment: who stretchest out
the heavens like a curtain:
Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh
the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind:
Who maketh his angels spirits: his ministers a flaming fire:
Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be
removed for ever.

Though outwardly a gloomy shroud,
The inner half of every cloud
Is bright and shining:
read more

Though outwardly a gloomy shroud,
The inner half of every cloud
Is bright and shining:
I therefore turn my clouds about
And always wear them inside out
To show the lining.

Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.

Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.

The clouds,--the only birds that never sleep.

The clouds,--the only birds that never sleep.