The Cloud Baskets

By Anonymous

Clouds that hide the sun with showers
Are wet baskets full of flowers.
One is packed with poppies bright,
One with lillies inward white.
One, that takes a day to pass,
Bulges out with blades of grass.
One’s a mass of roses red;
One, a crowded pansy-bed.
Yonder cloud, so sullen dull,
Of golden buttercups is full.
Its neighbor cloud, an ashen gray,
Glows within with daisies gay.
Not a cloud whose rain we rue
But is crammed with flowers too.
So I know the darkest cloud,
Creeping gloomy as a shroud,
Brings to me, all unconfessed,
Just the flowers I love the best.

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