4 Meanings
Add Yours
Follow
Share
Q&A
Clear or Cloudy Lyrics
Cleare or cloudie sweet as April showring,
Smooth or frowning so is hir face to mee,
Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring,
When skies blew silke and medowes carpets bee,
Hir speeches notes of that night bird that singeth,
Who thought all sweet yet jarring notes outringeth.
Hir grace like June, when earth and trees bee trimde,
In best attire of compleat beauties height,
Hir love againe like sommers daies bee dimde,
With little cloudes of doubtfull constant faith,
Hir trust hir doubt, like raine and heat in Skies,
Gently thundring, she lightning to mine eies.
Sweet sommer spring that breatheth life and growing,
In weedes as into herbs and flowers,
And sees of service divers sorts in sowing,
Some haply seeming and some being yours,
Raine on your herbs and flowers that truly serve,
And let your weeds lack dew and duly starve.
Smooth or frowning so is hir face to mee,
Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring,
When skies blew silke and medowes carpets bee,
Hir speeches notes of that night bird that singeth,
Who thought all sweet yet jarring notes outringeth.
In best attire of compleat beauties height,
Hir love againe like sommers daies bee dimde,
With little cloudes of doubtfull constant faith,
Hir trust hir doubt, like raine and heat in Skies,
Gently thundring, she lightning to mine eies.
In weedes as into herbs and flowers,
And sees of service divers sorts in sowing,
Some haply seeming and some being yours,
Raine on your herbs and flowers that truly serve,
And let your weeds lack dew and duly starve.
Add your song meanings, interpretations, facts, memories & more to the community.
Written by John Dowland, this song is from "Songs From the Labyrinth."
Clear or cloudy—sweet as April showers Her face is complacent or frowning to me Pleased or smiling like May in bloom When skies blow like silk and meadows are carpeted in green. She sounds like a night bird Singing sweet yet jarring notes
She’s as lovely as a June day in bloom When it’s at its loveliest Her love is like a summer day With few clouds—I cannot doubt her love. She believes in me like rain and heat grace summer skies She is gentle thunder—lightning to my eyes.
Sweet seasons of growth Bringing weeds among fruit and flowers Some by chance and some planted I wish enough rain for your herbs and flowers and may the rain overlook the weeds so they die.
Cloudy, today? Seems to be—even in the skies.
So you can relate to this song? Of course. But I wish you sweet seasons of growth. The weeds seem to be getting all the rain. I don’t care—let them. You are so like gentle thunder—running off on tangents and leaping to conclusions. This is like all four seasons in one day—something you happen to excel at and so apropos as a Sting song. Shelve everything you hear from the would-be-mr-know-it-all fluttering around your desk and … Listen to you? Oh, right … Come, heavy sleep sounds like a better idea. I’m not a good player in this game. Au contraire—baby, you’re the best. I just see weeds, weeds, and more weeds—flourishing like they were drenched with Miracle-Gro.
Do you remember our old ecstasy? Why would you bring it back again to me? Do you still dream as you dreamed long ago? Does your heart beat to my heart’s beating?—No They walked through weeds withered and grasses dead And only the night heard the words they said
Nothing, I breathed to her, is less sure than the divine word She drank in each little saying Words that built a building strange Her eyes, from an angel, at times would range But how grave was our heart As she listened to him under a tree Into the labyrinth of down Of this marvel of an ear
What shall I say? Worms tickle the moon’s appetite So sweet! At last I know what it is to hear and see How I shall love you now I speak of seeing you I know that you are living The welcome—is always elsewhere ….
[paraphrased poetry]
Perfume is on the breeze Dreams—she is fanning me with the flavor of her lips They met—their eyes met in shining dust Alas—following you, her thoughts are wandering afar In this season of a million flowers Music floats through frosty woods The hour is passed—my lute is still In darkened rooms, you can see the green ghost fires From the flutes of the forest you can hear a thousand voices The palace ladies of long ago and never were—are dancing We sailed to the isle of parrots, gazed at the round moon Listened to the windy pines Suddenly we heard music—a sad song—coming on the wind My companions asked her why she wept Embarrassed—she peeks out to smile In a dream, we stared at each other Without a word—and burst into tears
[paraphrased poetry]