‘…a grey cloud from the east…’

Bring a grey cloud from the east,
Where the lark is singing;
Something of the song at least,
Unlost in the bringing:
That shall be a morning chair,
Poet-dream may sit in,
When it leans out on the air,
Unrhymed and unwritten.

From ‘The House of Clouds’ by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Posted on December 28, 2011, in Photography, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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