There are many clouds
But not like the one I see,
For mine floats like a swan in featheriness
Over the River of the Broken Pine.
There are many clouds
But not like the one that goes sailing
Like a ship full of gold that shines,
Like a ship leaning above blue water.
There are many clouds
But not like the one I wait for,
For mine will have a strangeness
Whiter than anything your eyes remember.
The White Cloud
Hilda Conkling
(2)
Poem topics: remember, river, water, blue, wait, broken, gold, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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