The Cloud

One could not see or think, the heat overcame one, With a dazzle of square road to challenge and blind one, No water was there, cow parsley the only flower Of all May's garland this torrid before-summer hour, And but one ploughman to break ten miles of solitariness. No water, water to drink, stare at, the lovely clean grained one. Where like a falcon on prey, shadow flung downward Solid as gun-metal, the eyes sprang sunward To salute the silver radiance of an Atlantic high Prince of vapour required of the retinue Continual changing of the outer-sea's flooding sun Cloud royal, born called and ordered to domination, Spring called him out of his tent in the azure of pleasure, He girt his nobleness — and in slow pace went onward A true monarch of air chosen to service and station; And directed on duties of patrolling the considered blue. But what his course required being fulfilled, what fancy Of beyond-imagination did his power escape to With raiment of blown silver....