Vasily Zhukovsky

“ In tender caresses their gold clouds embracest,
And merrily twinklest with their golden stars.
And when the dark clouds gather sombre and threatening,
To steal from thy sight the clear stretch of the sky,
In rage thou dost roar, and, uplifting great billows,
Thou tearest and rendest the gathering gloom.
The dark doth soon vanish, away speed the clouds,
Yet still thou retainest the storm that is past,
Thy billows, in fright, are still rising and falling;
Thy peace comes not wholly when clear is the sky,
Once more when it shines with its radiant azure. ”