Summer Clouds

The boy gazed at the changing summer clouds, Their form and fantasy like something dreamed; One moment in a snow-capped mount they'd rise With silver trees and icy steeps; he seemed To feel the Arctic winds from that vast space And wondered at the sun upon his face.

But, gazing still, he found the scene had changed; An Oriental land, a narrow street With domes and spires, a sky line yet unknown, Was pictured there as by some magic feat; The sound of the silver bells floated on high And strangely mingled with the robin's cry.

Then suddenly the sky was clearer blue And on its azure sea a barquentine, With white sails curving to the breeze, swept down, To carry him afar to lands unseen; The sailors' voices rang out loud and clear In foreign tongue which only he could hear.

He rubbed his eyes, jumped to his feet, and then Began to weed the long straight row again.