While ghosts of clouds in silver shrouds, a world of fairy things,
Are grouped around that flowery ground, like doves with snowy wings.
Now silently they melt away amid the starry showers,
Weaving the while their train of lace festooned with buds and flowers,
Gathered in rolls and crimson folds they sweep night’s palace through,
Like islands bright with liquid light, drifting in seas of blue.
Now all are gone, and in their stead a calm and cloudless heaven,
Dimpled with stars whose placid light to earth is freely given,
To blend with heart-imaginings in the still evening air,
Soft and subdued, with love imbued, an everlasting prayer.