Hilda Conkling

((1910–1986) / New York)

The White Cloud - Poem by Hilda Conkling

There are many clouds
But not like the one I see,
For mine floats like a swan in featheriness
Over the River of the Broken Pine.

There are many clouds
But not like the one that goes sailing
Like a ship full of gold that shines,
Like a ship leaning above blue water.

There are many clouds
But not like the one I wait for,
For mine will have a strangeness
Whiter than anything your eyes remember


Comments about The White Cloud by Hilda Conkling

  • Barry Middleton (1/30/2016 6:18:00 AM)


    Very nice imagery. And the ending quite thought provoking. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 30, 2016



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