My Fancy loves to play with Clouds
That hour by hour can change Heaven's face;
For I am sure of my delight,
In green or stony place.
 
Sometimes they on tall mountains pile
Mountains of silver, twice as high;
And then they break and lie like rocks
All over the wide sky.
 
And then I see flocks very fair;
And sometimes, near their fleeces white,
Are small, black lambs that soon will grow
And hide their mothers quite.
 
Sometimes, like little fishes, they
Are all one size, and one great shoal;
Sometimes they like big sailing ships
Across the blue sky roll.
 
Sometimes I see small Cloudlets tow
Big, heavy Clouds across those skies --
Like little Ants that carry off
Dead Moths ten times their size.
 
Sometimes I see at morn bright Clouds
That stand so still, they make me stare;
It seems as they had trained all night
To make no motion there.