SONG
O clouds, ye boisterous flock of birds,
Where fly ye at such stormy pace,
That scarce your shadows can be seen,
Clasping the mend in dim embrace?
And that my spirit fathoms not
Wherefore ye to the mountains hie,
Nor what doth speed you in its train
To foreign climes that yonder lie.
O, it into a cloud, as ye,
Might be transformed my ponderings,
And soar unto the ends of earth
Upon their dusky raven wings!
On Cheskian hills amid their flight,
They would perforce awhile descend,
And with a rainbow-radiant smile
E'en 'mid their tears a greeting send.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.| Original: |
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1927. The author died in 1926, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 95 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. |
|---|---|
| Translation: |
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1927. The author died in 1970, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 50 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. |