Is the million-coloured bow;
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,
While the moist Earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
The ‘caverns of rain’ may need interpreting. It seems like a contradiction in terms; a cavern is an enclosed space and rain falls in the open air. However, this cavern seems to incubate the cloud and instead the rain falls in an enclosed womb-like space.  Yet, this enables it to “arise and unbuild it again”, so the cyclical process continues.  The poem is built of contrasts and opposites.
The Cloud