CLOUD TO WIND
O blow, blow high, for I descend;
Friend must go to meet his friend,
If to earth you tie your feet
You and I will never meet.

WIND
Nay, I haste. A trifle wait;
I exceed my usual gait.
Ha! this hill-top is sublime,
But it makes me pant to climb.

CLOUD
Once again, a little space,
Meet we in this Alpine place,
Before you leap adown the vale
Or I along my pathway sail.

WIND
Then let our little bell of time
Ring onward with a chatty chime--
How we have fled o'er earth and sky,
And what you saw and what saw I.

CLOUD
O, I from off my couch serene,
Woods, meadows, towns and seas have seen;
And in one wood, beside a cave,
A hermit kneeling by a grave:--
The which I felt so touched to see