My Cloud

Tiss alive! But dead! My cloud! When alive it thunder spreadeth, And when dead it darkness shedeth , My little virginal cloud! In the night it shalt ascend, And before the night would end, It will return, my weary cloud. When in anguished misery It weepeth rain the world to see, How woe can touch the clouds. And if the accursed sun, Doth decide with golden scythe, To penetrate my cloud, Then my cloud shalt split asunder, Oh with rain and mighty thunder, The entire world enshroud! And upon the morrow next, When thou readeth this sweet text, Thou shalt find me yon the shroud, Oh thou sun, I scream to thee, Not to display bravery, Stay away from my lovely black cloud!