Poems (White)/Clouds

by Jeannie Copes White

CLOUDS

The day was warm and dark and tense;
I looked without to see from whence
Such feelings came. There, spreading wide,
Were clouds, the blue of sky to hide.

Those clouds like sullen demons rose;
To close the light of day they chose,
As stealthfully they crouch and spring
Upon the scene, and also bring
Such terror to our hearts to hear
The angry voice of thunder near;
To see the lightning flash in eye,
While black clouds swiftly pass the sky.

I went within to seek repose
From these dark elements that rose;
My heart reflected this dark sight,
And all my thoughts were black as night.

When I rose and looked again,
The clouds had changed to white, and then
I gazed,—for there, by eyes or thought,
Those clouds so dark, by some cloud art,
Grew into angels' forms so fair,
With flowing robes and glistening hair;
Their hands were pointing over there;
I never saw a sight more fair.

Just what was meant for me to see?
And would you know? The secret's free,
The sky was blue on yonder end!
Enough! The angels slowly bend
Their forms and disappear from view.
A thought came to me that was true,
And swiftly passed to my review:

Clouds may lower, storms may arise,
But like the clouds, if you will try
To be happy or to be wise,
Look for the blue within your sky.