Josephine Preston Peabody

(1874-1922 / United States)

The Cloud - Poem by Josephine Preston Peabody

The islands called me far away,
   The valleys called me home.
The rivers with a silver voice
   Drew on my heart to come.

The paths reached tendrils to my hair
   From every vine and tree.
There was no refuge anywhere
   Until I came to thee.

There is a northern cloud I know,
   Along a mountain crest;
And as she folds her wings of mist,
   So I could make my rest.

There is no chain to bind her so
   Unto that purple height;
And she will shine and wander, slow,
   Slow, with a cloud's delight.

Would she begone? She melts away,
   A heavenly joyous thing.
Yet day will find the mountain white,
   White-folded with her wing.

As you may see, but half aware
   If it be late or soon,
Soft breathing on the day-time air,
   The fair forgotten Moon.

And though love cannot bind me, Love,
   -- Ah no! -- yet I could stay
Maybe, with wings forever spread,
   -- Forever, and a day.

Comments about The Cloud by Josephine Preston Peabody

  • (7/5/2005 11:22:00 AM)

    The GREATEST trajedy is for someone NOT to realize they are indeed already FREE..when you are bound to one are FREE to experience another..
    It is not being bound or free..It is ONE's attitude toward the state you are in
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Read poems about / on: purple, silver, tree, moon, hair, home, river

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003

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