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I
AM feasting my soul, this afternoon, on the sights in the distant sky And the clouds that are less than the blue beyond, marching in beauty by. The peaks high up where the horizon the purest breath may claim As an heir of earth, yet a mantle rare at a height sublime may gain. There are giant clouds like great brigades, that seem with martial tread In uniform and on " gracious time " to be forging their way ahead To a fortress far-off that is waiting them, which their " code " perhaps may show, Because of the knowledge through the height, that they alone may know. Some of the forces that muster there, seem broken and out of time, But far beyond are the heavy trains of clouds that are well in line For the Grand Inspection, which bugle call may pronounce ere the sacred pen Has bestowed the emblems, with golden touch, as a charm to the gaze of men. While sound-waves ripple across the space, as a ripple over the sea They may travel on from the conscious brain, as a dove from the ark set free And the Olive Branch at a distant height, from former flooded lands Prove the Insignia, that clouds have wept, where the "typical" rainbow stands. |