Poems (Louisa Blake)/To the Clouds

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TO THE CLOUDS.
Ye do not darkly roll, ye clouds! Though mass on mass is piled so high,Although your fleecy mantle shrouds The melting azure of the sky.
Not darkly, for ye still retain The vanish'd sun's last, lingering ray;O, why may ye not thus remain, Why must that splendor fade away!
So soft the rays their tints diffuse, As the pure light is richly shed,It seems as if the lovely hues Some seraph's glowing pencil spread:
It seems as if those clouds, so full Of richness, had some heavenly birth,That things so brightly beautiful, Could rise not from our cold damp earth.
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Ah! they are earthly, for the ray Shines not so brightly as before;Its beams are fading fast away,— The last, faint streak is now no more.
Yes, it is gone! and darkness dwells Where light in its pure brightness shone,And my sad heart now sadly swells, For its light moments too are gone.
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