Clouds

Were I a bird on joyous wing

Amid the far clouds would be my flight;

And were I a painter nought I'd paint

But clouds and sky from morn till night.

How dearly do I love each cloudlet,

I greet it as it draweth nigh

And as from sight it slowly fadeth,

God be with thee I ever cry.

I watch the clouds at morn and ev'ning

When the red sky glows far and deep

Upon its breast they lie so calmly,

Like children peacefully asleep.

I watch their forms in endless changes,

And know not when they seem most fair.

I see them parted and reblended,

And lose their clear shape in the air.

Why do I watch them so intently

Through all their changes day by day?

I, e'en as they, am changing ever,

Yet am myself unchang'd for aye.