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.


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.