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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.


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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Literary Movement
Imagist, 19th Century

Night, Sky, Clouds, Hope