With a turn of his magical rod, <br />That extended and suddenly shone, <br />From the round of his glory some god <br />Looks forth and is gone. <br /> <br />To the summit of heaven the clouds <br />Are rolling aloft like steam; <br />There's a break in their infinite shrouds, <br />And below it a gleam. <br />O'er the drift of the river a whiff <br />Comes out from the blossoming shore; <br />And the meadows are greening, as if <br />They never were green before. <br /> <br />The islands are kindled with gold <br />And russet and emerald dye; <br />And the interval waters outrolled <br />Are more blue than the sky. <br />From my feet to the heart of the hills <br />The spirits of May intervene, <br />And a vapor of azure distills <br />Like a breath on the opaline green. <br /> <br />Only a moment!-and then <br />The chill and the shadow decline, <br />On the eyes of rejuvenate men <br />That were wide and divine.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cloud-break/
