Clouds by Rupert Brooke

Clouds

Down the blue night the unending columns press
In noiseless tumult, break and wave and flow,
Now tread the far South, or lift rounds of snow
Up to the white moon’s hidden loveliness.
Some pause in their grave wandering comradeless,
And now with profound gesture vague and slow,
As who would pray good for the world, but know
Their benediction empty as they bless.

They say the Dead die not, but remain
Near to the rich heirs of their grief and mirth.
I think they ride the calm mid-heaven, as these,
In wise majestic melancholy train,
And watch the moon, and the still raging seas,
And men, coming and going on the earth.

RUPERT BROOKE
from Fresh Fields Poetry Series – Longman Australian Edition
(Found by Imogen Crest in a roadside box of books with Enchanteur.)

“Sunset Clouds”
image
(copyright Imogen Crest 2007.)

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Published by

imogen88

Seeking balance from corporate life years back, Monika Roleff stumbled across Lemuria in cyberspace, and became Imogen Crest, Hermit muse, under the influence of Heather Blakey, educator and Webmistress of Soul Food Cafe - famous global writing and art group. "Imogen" has never looked back, and creates the world as she sees it, through the eyes of nature, in word and art. In "real life" Monika Roleff is a writer, nature photographer, consultant, vintage fairs and events, writing fests and more, with an extensive admin and retail fashion background, and can be contacted on indigo_moon22 at hotmail dot com.

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