Night Clouds by Amy Lowell
In this poem, the poet looks towards the sky at night to see clouds as mares, then continuing to action throughout the entirety. As a young boy, I would look towards the sky and imagine animals the same way. I can't help but think of this poem as hopeful and youthful. It helps me realize that things are brighter, somewhere, in the universe. Whether it is on earth, in the sky, or on another planet or in another life. The hope is there.
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A Decade The white mares of the moon rush along the sky Beating their golden hoofs upon the glass heavens; The white mares of the moon are all standing on their hind legs Pawing at the green porcelain doors of the remote heavens Fly, Mares! Strain your utmost Scatter the milky dust of stars, Or the tiger sun will leap upon you and destroy you With one lick of his vermilion tongue.
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Imagist, 19th Century
Night, Sky, Clouds, Hope