Clouds

The sky is full of clouds to-day,

And idly to and fro,

Like sheep across the pasture, they

Across the heavens go.

I hear the wind with merry noise—

Around the housetops sweep,

And dream it is the shepherd boys,

They're driving home their sheep.

The clouds move faster now; and see!

The west is red and gold.

Each sheep seems hastening to be

The first within the fold.

I watch them hurry on until

The blue is clear and deep,

And dream that far beyond the hill

The shepherds fold their sheep.

Then in the sky the trembling stars

Like little flowers shine out,

While Night puts up the shadow bars,

And darkness falls about.

I hear the shepherd wind's good-night—

"Good-night and happy sleep!"—

And dream that in the east, all white,

Slumber the clouds, the sheep.