Francis
Békássy .
2.
Clouds.
VEA, very
swiftly
do
they
veer , and
fly;
Their
shadow
dapples
the abundant
vale
,
And
in
a
while
no
cloud
is
on
the sky
.
Their
forms are
fanciful
,
of
texture frail
:
And
now
like
hounds
in
great pursuit they
seem
!
-
Their
prey
will
vanish
in
the
opening
morn
.
Only
a
little while
the trappings
gleam
,
And for
a
little
space
doth
sound
a
horn
.
3.
Winds
.
room
to
.
TIPTOE up
and down
and all about
What
folly
prompts
you
,
wind
,
from
room
?
Leave
now
the creaking
staircases
;
go
out
;
Make sturdy
movement
all across
the
broom
And
in
the heather
-
bells
;
or
in
a
mead
Stiffen
the
hairs
upon
a
horse
's
mane
;
And
,
unreluctant
as
the moments
speed
Soar
to
destruction
in
the
slanting
rain
.