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Shall I not cry to ye aloud
O clouds! My spirit was a cloud
Like one of you,—was free, I say,
To loiter o'er the tremulous lakes
Loving, to cling upon the wane
Of every fair thing that forsakes
The light and luxury of day;
To bear me over hill and plain
Upon the winds' unfooted way:
Ah, I was fearless then and pure;
And my sight touched all things obscure
Beneath dim masks of change or sleep:
And read the tender meanings writ
For full new heavens down in deep
Horizons, over which stood knit
The storms' dark brows; I saw what cleaves
In the far corners of sun-smiles,
And I could send my breath for miles
Among the flowers and the leaves.
