One moment, the slim cloudflakes seem to lean With their sad sunward faces aureoled, And longing lips set downward brightening To take the last sweet hand kiss of the king, Gone down beyond the closing west acold; Paying no reverence to the slender queen, That like a curved olive leaf of gold Hangs low in heaven, rounded toward sun, Or the small stars that one by one unfold Down the gray border of the night begun.