Classic Poem

Thy sunbeam comes upon this earth of mine with
arms outstretched and stands at my door the livelong day
to carry back to thy feet clouds made of my tears and sighs and songs.

With fond delight thou wrappest about thy
starry breast that mantle of misty cloud, turning it into
numberless shapes and folds and coloring it with hues ever-changing.

It is so light and so fleeting, tender and tearful and dark;
that is why thou lovest it, O thou spotless and serene.
And that is why it may cover thy awful white
light with its pathetic shadows.