Thursday, September 17, 2009

The Cloud by Percy Bysshe Shelley Part 5

And the crimson pall of eve may fall
From the depth of Heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine aery nest,
As still as a brooding dove
That orbed maiden with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the Moon,
Glides glimmer o'er my fleece like floor,
by the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
The stars peep behind her and peer;
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
Till the calm rivers, lakes and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are paved with the moon and these.


4 comments:

Texas Travelers said...

Loved the photo and especially the poetry.
Thanks for sharing.
Troy and Martha.

Rune said...

Greate post :) Nice coloured sky.

J Bar said...

Interesting effect.
Sydney - City and Suburbs

eileeninmd said...

Love the color and I enjoye dthe verse. Thanks for sharing your skies.