Monday, September 26, 2011


I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
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.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
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.


Mouse said...

ohhhh love how you have got the sunset in those clouds and the poem is so fitting :) love mouse xxxx

MoonBeam said...

Really nice post. Thanks.

Denise said...

Do you know how many Cloud Pictures I have from my summers in the national parks. Yeah, you can guess. Stacks and stacks would not be an understatement, and this was in film days! Thanks for sharing!
Ummn, and a weather poem (not mine) to share: On stormy days when the wind is high, tall trees are brooms sweeping the sky, they swish their branches in buckets of rain & swash and sweep it blue again. (I love weather & weather poems!)