The Skies and their Glory

Early morning snaps and poetry :) Have a fabulous day y'all! 

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

         And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

         When the morning star shines dead;

As on the jag of a mountain crag,

         Which an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle alit one moment may sit

         In the light of its golden wings.

And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

         Its ardours of rest and of love,

And the crimson pall of eve may fall

         From the depth of Heaven above,

With wings folded I rest, on mine aëry nest,

         As still as a brooding dove.

I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,

         And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;

The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,

         When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.

From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,

         Over a torrent sea,

Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,

         The mountains its columns be.

The triumphal arch through which I march

         With hurricane, fire, and snow,

When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,

         Is the million-coloured bow;

The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,

         While the moist Earth was laughing below.

I am the daughter of Earth and Water,

         And the nursling of the Sky;

I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

         I change, but I cannot die.

For after the rain when with never a stain

         The pavilion of Heaven is bare,

And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams

         Build up the blue dome of air,

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

         And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

         I arise and unbuild it again.

AN: The world is a beautiful place at this time of the day! The poem above is a part of P.B Shelly's The Cloud (stanzas III, V and VI)