Monday, September 26, 2011
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
First and last stanzas from The Cloud, by Percy Bysshe Shelley.