Cloud Break

With a turn of his magical rod,
That extended and suddenly shone,
From the round of his glory some god
Looks forth and is gone.
To the summit of heaven the clouds
Are rolling aloft loke steam;
There's a break in their infinite shrouds,
And below it a dleam.
O'er the drift ao the river a whiff
Comes out from the blossoming, as if
 They never were green before.
The islands are kindked with gold
And russet and emerald dye;
And the interval waters outrolled
Are more blue than the sky
From my feet to tje heart of the hills
The spirit of May intervene,
And a vapor af azure distills
Like a breath on opaline green

Only a moment! and then
the chill and the shadow decline,
On the eyes of rejuvenate men
That were wide and divine