by Greta Zwaan, ©2018
White clouds in heavenly splendour glide softly in the sky,
They form, they change, they journey like soap suds flowing by.
They skip like little children, they float on silent wings,
They join their hands in tribute, such lovely, fluffy things.
No choreographic wonder could human hands obtain;
To equal this performance must be by heavenly reign.
Their ultra white appearance, like freshly fallen snow,
Glides slowly o’er the heavens, they venture to and fro.
There’s no baton to guide them yet movement comes with ease,
Like joyful, happy children they glide where’er they please.
Who tells them how to function? Who guides the path they take?
Who keeps them from destruction? Why don’t they crash and break?
There has to be an order that we don’t understand,
A universal programme within the Master’s hand.
The things we rarely notice; the things we fail to see,
Are part of God’s creation; a holy mystery.
How do clouds stay above us? Why don’t they fall to earth?
What makes them move so gently? Does movement cause them mirth?
They dance as if they’re joyful; they roam the sky at will;
But me? I stand in wonder: how can they be so still?
I ponder o’er their beauty, I marvel at their grace,
And realize God’s purpose – He put the clouds in place.
Just like in all creation we see His perfect plan,
We’re privileged to enjoy them, a gift from God to man.
Poet: Annette Wynne
One little cloud is out to-day,
One little cloud, and a whole big sky for play -
What a big place for a little one,
Shine out, you big round sun,
Shine out and frighten the little lone cloud, I pray,
The sun shone out and the cloud ran away!
Poet: William Cullen Bryant
Beautiful cloud! with folds so soft and fair,
Swimming in the pure quiet air!
Thy fleeces bathed in sunlight, while below
Thy shadow o'er the vale moves slow;
Where, midst their labour, pause the reaper train
As cool it comes along the grain.
Beautiful cloud! I would I were with thee
In thy calm way o'er land and sea:
To rest on thy unrolling skirts, and look
On Earth as on an open book;
On streams that tie her realms with silver bands,
And the long ways that seam her lands;
And hear her humming cities, and the sound
Of the great ocean breaking round.
Ay—I would sail upon thy air-borne car
To blooming regions distant far,
To where the sun of Andalusia shines
On his own olive-groves and vines,
Or the soft lights of Italy's bright sky
In smiles upon her ruins lie.
But I would woo the winds to let us rest
O'er Greece long fettered and oppressed,
Whose sons at length have heard the call that comes
From the old battle-fields and tombs,
And risen, and drawn the sword, and on the foe
Have dealt the swift and desperate blow,
And the Othman power is cloven, and the stroke
Has touched its chains, and they are broke.
Ay, we would linger till the sunset there
Should come, to purple all the air,
And thou reflect upon the sacred ground
The ruddy radiance streaming round.
Bright meteor! for the summer noontide made!
Thy peerless beauty yet shall fade.
The sun, that fills with light each glistening fold,
Shall set, and leave thee dark and cold:
The blast shall rend thy skirts, or thou may'st frown
In the dark heaven when storms come down,
And weep in rain, till man's inquiring eye
Miss thee, forever from the sky.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
I sit and watch the clouds float by
They move and change the big blue sky
I see things in their shapes
Some are big, others small like grapes.
Clouds can be compared to life
The darks ones representing strife
The fluffy one so big and round
Reminds us of happiness found.
So as you sit and watch them pass by
Be happy don't waste the days with sighs
Focus on the positive shapes and find
The good today, leave the past behind.
Poet: R.P.S.
Clouds that wander through the sky,
Sometimes low and sometimes high;
In the darkness and the night,
In the sunshine warm and bright.
Ah! I wonder much if you
Have got any work to do?
Yes, we're busy night and day,
As o'er earth we take our way.
We are bearers of the rain
To the grass, and flowers, and grain;
And when skies are warm and blue,
Shade the bright, hot sun from you.
Poet: Daniel C. Colesworthy
Behold the sky! how glorious 'tis,
In gold and silver dressed;
As if the sunny vales of bliss
Were opening on the blessed.
Behold the earth! a glory crowns
The lowland and the lea,
The hill-tops and the plumy downs,
Each leaf and shrub and tree.
Behold the beast! in shady groves,
Or resting by the stream,
Where'er the forest tenant roves,
There's happiness for him.
Yet thou art sad. man! awake,
And cast thy sorrows by;
Of earth's full happiness partake,
Nor waste thy strength and die.
Heaven made thee for a happy man,
To be supremely blessed;
Yet thou wilt thwart his wondrous plan,
In clouds of gloom depressed,
In clouds of gloom, when all around
Is cheerful, happy, bright!
Up from the shadows on the ground,
To wisdom, life and light!
Poet: Mortimer Collins
I have been sitting alone
All day while the clouds went by,
While moved the strength of the seas,
While the wind with a will of his own,
A poet out of the sky,
Smote the green harp of the trees.
Alone yet not alone,
For I felt as the gay wind whirled,
As the cloudy sky grew clear,
The touch of our Father half-known,
Who dwells at the heart of the world,
Yet who is always here.
Poet: Kate Louise Wheeler
The clouds that float above
Each have two separate sides,
One toward the earth below,
The other toward the sun;
And when we see our lives,
Which God in goodness guides,
Upon the darker side
He sees the brighter one.
Some day we shall behold
The side that He can see,
And we shall praise His name
For blessings that are ours;
Till clouds shall all disperse,
And life shall grander be,
Refreshed like mother earth
When sunshine follows showers.
