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.
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There does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam read more
There does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.
Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
By th' mass and 'tis, like a read more
Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
By th' mass and 'tis, like a camel indeed.
Methinks it is like a weasel.
It is backed like a weasel.
Or like a whale.
Very like a whale.
Clouds on clouds, in volumes driven,
Curtain round the vault of heaven.
Clouds on clouds, in volumes driven,
Curtain round the vault of heaven.
The cloud never comes from the quarter of the horizon from which we watch for it.
The cloud never comes from the quarter of the horizon from which we watch for it.
And it can to pass at the seventh time, that he said, Behold,
there ariseth a little cloud out read more
And it can to pass at the seventh time, that he said, Behold,
there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand.
And he said, Go up, say unto Ahab, Prepare thy chariot, and get
thee down, that the rain stop thee not.
By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel read more
By unseen hand uplifted in the light
Of sunset, yonder solitary cloud
Floats, with its white apparel blown abroad,
And wafted up to heaven.
The low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.
The low'ring element
Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape.
My prophecy is but half his journey yet,
For yonder walls, that pertly front your town,
Yon read more
My prophecy is but half his journey yet,
For yonder walls, that pertly front your town,
Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds,
Must kiss their own feet.
O, it is pleasant, with a heart at ease,
Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies,
To read more
O, it is pleasant, with a heart at ease,
Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies,
To make the shifting clouds be what you please,
Or let the easily persuaded eyes
Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould
Of a friend's fancy.
