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| LAST night a storm fell on the world | |
| From height of drouth and heat, | |
| The surly clouds for weeks were furled, | |
| The air could only sway and beat, | |
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| The beetles clattered at the blind, | 5 |
| The hawks fell twanging from the sky, | |
| The west unrolled a feathery wind, | |
| And the night fell sullenly. | |
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| A storm leaped roaring from its lair, | |
| Like the shadow of doom, | 10 |
| The poignard lightning searched the air, | |
| The thunder ripped the shattered gloom, | |
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| The rain came down with a roar like fire, | |
| Full-voiced and clamorous and deep, | |
| The weary world had its heart’s desire, | 15 |
| And fell asleep. | |
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| And now in the morning early | |
| The clouds are sailing by; | |
| Clearly, oh! so clearly, | |
| The distant mountains lie. | 20 |
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| The wind is very mild and slow, | |
| The clouds obey his will, | |
| They part and part and onward go, | |
| Travelling together still. | |
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| ’Tis very sweet to be alive | 25 |
| On a morning that ’s so fair, | |
| For nothing seems to stir or strive | |
| In the unconscious air. | |
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| A tawny thrush is in the wood | |
| Ringing so wild and free; | 30 |
| Only one bird has a blither mood— | |
| The whitethroat on the tree. | |
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