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Edith Nesbit - Prelude
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OUT of the west when the sun was dying 
Clouds of white wings came flying, flying, 
Wheeling and whirling they swept away 
Into the heart of the eastern gray; 
But one white dove came straight to my breast 
            Out of the west. 


Into the west when the dawn was pearly 
Clouds of white wings went, dewy-early, 
Straight from the world of the waning stars; 
O beating pinions! O prison bars! 
My dove flies free no more with the rest 
            Into the west.
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