198
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!
