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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

When clouds appear like rocks and towers,
The earth's refreshed by frequent showers.

When clouds appear like rocks and towers,
The earth's refreshed by frequent showers.

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.

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.

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.