The Cloud May Sail There Poem by Roden Berkeley Wriothesley Noel

The Cloud May Sail There



The cloud may sail there,
Day flow and fail there,
And the eagle fly,
Haze overshadow
A smooth snow meadow,
And gleams of silver
Fleeting fly
From yon cloud-delver
Of gleaming eye!
The moon may tarry with
Her pale bow,
And moonrise marry with
Virgin snow,
Blue heavens abide,
Or solemn-eyed
Stars by night, who gaze and go:
Ah! ne'er pollute
With a mortal foot
Yon realms of spirits aerial;
All but the lute
Of air be mute
From rosy morn to evening fall,
While flowerets blue,
Fair with dew,
Laugh to the azure over all;
Let a music mazy,
Born of the hazy
Play of a tender light and shade,
On hallowed ground
Dance with the sound
Fairy horns have faintly made;
A cloud of snow
Softly blow
On the blue verge of the form so white,
Delicate curl
In a windy whirl;
But man, be far from the holy height,
Soil no fair fields of frosty light!

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