TO AN EVENING CLOUD.
BY A YOUNG LADY.
Thou beautiful cloud, a glorious hue is thine!
I cannot think, as thy bright dyes appear
To my enraptured gaze, that thou wert born
Of Evening’s exhalations: more sublime,
Light-giver! is thy birth-place, than of earth.
Wert thou not formed to herald in the day,
And clothe a world in thy unborrowed light?
Or art thou but a harbinger of rains