Paul Hamilton Hayne (1830–1886)

AN HOUR agone!—and prostrate Nature lay

Like some sore-smitten creature nigh to death,

With feverish, parchéd lips, with laboring breath,

And languid eyeballs, darkening to the day;

A burning NOONTIDE ruled with merciless sway

Earth, wave, and air; the ghastly-stretching heath,

The sullen trees, the fainting flowers beneath,

Drooped hopeless, shrivelling in the torrid ray;—

When, like a sudden, cheerful trumpet, blown

Far off by rescuing spirits, rose the wind

Urging great hosts of clouds; the thunder’s tone

Breaks into wrath; the rainy cataracts fall;

But, pausing soon, behold Creation shrined

In a new birth,—God’s Covenant clasping all!