O THE sky hung dark and shaded And the winds were ill at rest, And the slow black clouds paraded Heavily from east to west— When my Lady's whim did strip her Pure and soft as she was born, Off she drew each small gold slipper By a bare bush harsh with thorn. Then the sun his eyes unclouded With the right arm of a gale And a rainbow arched and prouded Like a peacock's spreading tail. (See! The questing wind reposes, Boughs to green-leaved bourgeon stir, And the thorn-bush blushes roses At the pearl-white glimpse of her.) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARSHALL WASHER by HAYDEN CARRUTH HOW THEY GO ON by JAMES GALVIN BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. SIBLEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE RIGHT TO GRIEF by CARL SANDBURG |