The Cloud Poem by Joseph Skipsey
The Cloud
A CLOUD the valley domes, and down
Yon erewhile sun-lit mountain stealth,
And bit by bit, with one black frown,
The green and gold below concealed.
Down, down it comes, and pain me numbs,
To think how soon yon vision splendid―
Yon one last scene of gold and green,
Must like my other dreams have ended.
Monday, September 8, 2014
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4/24/2024 4:57:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
