Sorry about this, but it’s another poem from me this week. I did have a nice juicy post lined up for you, but I didn’t start it early enough today and, well… by the time I’d gotten back to it after dinner, it was quite late.
So I am going to give you another poem, this time about clouds and hopefully I’ll be able to finish my other post for next week.
On the grass I love to lie
And watch the clouds go sailing by;
Many things they seem to me,
Foam blown off a fairy sea,
Downy feathers from a goose,
Fleecy lambs wandering loose,
Scatterings of thistledown,
Snippings from a pixy’s gown,
Softly, silently the pass,
Trailing shadows on the grass.
But when the clouds I watch are low,
Dark and darker still they grow.
Thistledown no longer they
But cloaks for witches, wild and grey,
Purple tower vast and grand,
Clouds like hills from Giant Land
In whose inky depths there lie
Glints of lightning’s wicked eye.
Torn and ragged, wild and fast
The thunder clouds go racing past.