OH, why was it he looked with such a fierceness the sky?
The rustling of the clouds was pearling grey and silver by,
The lady of the clouds had dropped her muff, but on she trailed,
Her dainty gown was powder-blue, her train was dragon-tailed.
Her face was pale as curds and whey with sleepy-starey look,
The stars they must have bored her, for they were her only book—
And yet she seemed disdainful as the poplars bowed their plumes,
With all the feudal worship that a cloudy queen assumes.
Oh, why was it the poet glanced with envy in his eye
Above him at the clouds a-sailing grey and silver by?