by: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
AN awful tempest mashed the air,
The clouds were gaunt and few;
A black, as of a spectre's cloak,
Hid heaven and earth from view.
The creatures chuckled on the roofs
And whistled in the air,
And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth,
And swung their frenzied hair.
The morning lit, the birds arose;
The monster's faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast,
And peace was Paradise!
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You seem to be on a Dickinson kick recently... I like it :]
ReplyDeleteI love her :)
ReplyDeleteVery deep poem!
ReplyDeleteThat was great! The accompanying picture was fantastic, too!
ReplyDelete