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.

Far clouds of feathery gold,
Shaded with deepest purple, gleam
Like islands on a dark blue sea.

Far clouds of feathery gold,
Shaded with deepest purple, gleam
Like islands on a dark blue sea.

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.

On the other side of the handrail, the hallway's gray marble floor looks as if we've climbed a stairway through read more

On the other side of the handrail, the hallway's gray marble floor looks as if we've climbed a stairway through the clouds.

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.

If woolly fleeces spread the heavenly way
No rain, be sure, disturbs the summer's day.

If woolly fleeces spread the heavenly way
No rain, be sure, disturbs the summer's day.

So when the sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave.

So when the sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave.

Moreover, brethren, I would not that ye should be ignorant, how
that al our fathers were under the cloud, read more

Moreover, brethren, I would not that ye should be ignorant, how
that al our fathers were under the cloud, and all passed through
the sea.

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.