Classic Poem

Like wayward flocks of lambs and sheep,
We Clouds upon the soft warm sky,
Over hamlet, vale, or steep,
Gather or scatter, faint or fly,
White and bright from land to land,
From hill to hill, by light winds fanned:
As travellers loitering on their track,
Or bather slumbering on his back,
Children of the sun-god are we
O'er harvest champaign, teeming sea;
In this the noontide of our day
We laugh at change, yet must not stay.