The cloud is in love with the flowers, leaves and buds. It brings fresh showers of rain from the seas and streams for the thirsty flowers. At noon, it provides cool shade to the leaves when they seem to be drooping in sleep and dreaming of water. The earth dances around the sun and sends flowers and buds to sleep. In the morning, the cloud wakes them up from sleep by shaking due-droops from its wings. 

The cloud beats the plans with hail stones and laughs as it passes in thunder. It sprinkles the snow on the mountains below. It sleeps in the arms of the storm with the pillow of snow under its head. Lightning is the pilot of the cloud. It guides the cloud over the earth and ocean. Shelley has created a beautiful myth about the thunder. The thunder is a giant in chains in some cave, struggling and howling at fits. 

The cloudy playful by nature and it loves to play with the sun and the moon. In the morning, the sun with its bright and shining rays rides on the back of the cloud and save in the sky. The sun looks like a shining Eagle sitting on a mountain which is shaken for a moment by an earthquake. In the evening, the sun gives a message of rest and love. At the time, the cloud shits like a boarding dove and take rest on its nest in the air. 

The moon is a maiden with a round face. She walks on the floor of the cloud with the beat of her unseen feet. The beat of her feet produces force in the wind-built tent of the cloud. Through those holes, the moon and the stars peep and see their reflection in the calm waters of the lakes and streams.  

The cloud is the lord of the sky. It spreads a halo of pearls round the sun and the moon. It marches in the sky like a victorious hero. Winds and storms unfurl the flag of the cloud. It stands like a roof or bridge over the earth. The mountains are the pillars on which that roof or bridge stands. The rainbow is the victory gate of the cloud. Storm, lightning and hail stones are its generals. The winds are the prisoners chained to its chair. 

Earth and water are the parents of the cloud and the sky is its nurse. It is the daughter of earth and water. 

The cloud goes on changing shapes, but it does not die. When the sky is perfectly clear, the cloud is believed to be dead. The rays of the sun seen to build the blue dome of air for the burial of the cloud. Then suddenly it comes out of the caves of rain like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb. It laughs at the own tomb. It destroys that tomb and spreads over the sky. 

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