The Collected Poems of William H. Davies/Clouds

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CLOUDS

My Fancy loves to play with Clouds That hour by hour can change Heaven’s face;For I am sure of my delight, In green or stony place.
Sometimes they on tall mountains pile Mountains of silver, twice as high;And then they break and lie like rocks All over the wide sky.
And then I see flocks very fair; And sometimes, near their fleeces white,Are small, black lambs that soon will grow And hide their mothers quite.
Sometimes, like little fishes, they Are all one size, and one great shoal;Sometimes they like big sailing ships Across the blue sky roll.
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Sometimes I see small Cloudlets tow Big, heavy Clouds across those skies—Like little Ants that carry off Dead Moths ten times their size.
Sometimes I see at morn bright Clouds That stand so still, they make me stare;It seems as they had trained all night To make no motion there.
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