  A little white Cloud loved the Mountain, She hung in the sky all day, And gazed with rather a timid smile To where, beneath her full many a mile, The earth and the loved one lay. The Mountain was silent and lonely, And grim in the light of dawn, And ever and aye he cast his eyes In longing hope to the distant skies Where little white clouds are born. Till a breeze in the evening passing Took pity upon her vow, And very tenderly lifted down The virgin Cloud, till her fleecy crown Was set on the Mountain's brow. And they loved with a silent ardour So great that she soon was slain, And drop by drop from her tender breast The life-blood flowed o'er his rock-bound crest, And fell to the earth in rain. But she left him to keep for ever, As solace in endless woe Her soul, and now through the changing years, Come shine, come shade, or come smiles, or tears, It lies on his breast as snow. |
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