Quotes
Quotes about Clouds
Sark, fairer than aught in the world that the lit skies cover, Laughs inly behind her cliffs, and the seafarers mark As a shrine where the sunlight serves, though the blown clouds hover, Sark.
Up springs the lark, Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn; Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations.
Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The Ploughboy is whooping--anon--anon! There's joy in the mountains: There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone.
Sweet May hath come to love us, Flowers, trees, their blossoms don; And through the blue heavens above us The very clouds move on.
How like a queen comes forth the lonely Moon From the slow opening curtains of the clouds Walking in beauty to her midnight throne!
Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; They crown'd him long ago On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, With a diadem of snow.
Round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers, stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes - every form of animate or inanimate existence, leaves its impress upon the soul of man.
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.
No clouds are in the morning sky, The vapors hug the stream, Who says that life and love can die In all this northern gleam? At every turn the maples burn, The quail is whistling free, The partridge whirs, and the frosted burs Are dropping for you and me. Ho! hillyho! heigh O! Hillyho! In the clear October morning.
Alternative Terror War Tanks rolled over to Jenin and its Refugee Camp As battlefields in a minute Clouds of black smokes belched From the nozzle of the missiles Turned the dwellings into debris And lives breathe under rubble Still desires of living That will never be fulfilled Sighing are heard in the air Unseen ghosts are roaming freely Searching their brotherhoods Living or dead Souls are still weeping bitterly With sorrows that never end In the war turned atmosphere Flying high in the sky appeared The hungry vultures that smell Odors of rotten human flesh As if the open graveyards To wipe the terrors and even its ghosts Out of the worldly atmosphere Reassuring pure peace In every peopleâs mind Isât the rebirth of terror Or alternative terror ? © Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar.
Be thou the rainbow to the storms of life! The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray!
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
And the hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.
The Clouds consign their treasures to the fields; And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world.
The solitary side of our nature demands leisure for reflection upon subjects on which the dash and whirl of daily business, so long as its clouds rise thick about us, forbid the intellect to fasten itself.
Straightway throughout the Libyan cities flies rumor;--the report of evil things than which nothing is swifter; it flourishes by its very activity and gains new strength by its movements; small at first through fear, it soon raises itself aloft and sweeps onward along the earth. Yet its head reaches the clouds. . . . A huge and horrid monster covered with many feathers: and for every plume a sharp eye, for every pinion a biting tongue. Everywhere its voices sound, to everything its ears are open. [Lat., Extemplo Libyae magnas it Fama per urbes: Fama malum quo non velocius ullum; Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit eundo; Parva metu primo; mox sese attollit in auras, Ingrediturque solo, et caput inter nubilia condit. . . . . Monstrum, horrendum ingens; cui quot sunt corpore plumae Tot vigiles oculi subter, mirabile dictu, Tot linquae, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures.]
From hyperborean skies Embodied dark, what clouds of vandals rise.
Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies; The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare, And shed their substance on the floating air.
Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends, And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends; White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud: Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears; And instant death on every wave appears.
O Cicero, I have seen tempests when the scolding winds Have rived the knotty oaks, and I have seen Th' ambitious ocean swell and rage and foam To be exalted with the threat'ning clouds; But never till to-night, never till now, Did I go through a tempest dropping fire.
When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth.
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this son of York; And all the clouds that lowered upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
