Explore "Sunset Clouds" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Low clouds, the lightning veins and cleaves, / Torn from the forest of the storm, / Sweep westward like enormous leaves / O'er field and farm.
And in the west, on burning skies, / Their wrath is quenched, their hate is hushed, / And deep their drifted thunder lies / With splendor flushed.
The black turns gray, the gray turns gold; / And, seaed in deeps of radiant rose, / Summits of fire, manifold / They now repose.
What dreams they bring! what thoughts reveal! / That have their source in loveliness, / Through which the doubts I often feel / Grow less and less.
Through which I see that other night, / That cloud called Death, transformed of Love / To flame, and pointing with its light / To life above.