Look yonder, ah! methinks mine eyes do see 
Clouds edged with silver, as fine garments be; 
They look as if they saw that golden face 
That makes black clouds most beautiful with grace. 
Unto the saints' sweet incense, or their prayer, 
These smoky curdled clouds I do compare. 
For as these clouds seem edged, or laced with gold, 
Their prayers return with blessings manifold.