Poems of Passion — 83 - Floods

FLOODS.

In the dark night, from sweet refreshing sleep I wake to hear outside my window-pane The uncurbed fury of the wild spring rain, And weird winds lashing the defiant deep, And roar of floods that gather strength and leap Down dizzy, wreck-strewn channels to the main.

I turn upon my pillow and again Compose myself for slumber.

Let them sweep;

I once survived great floods, and do not fear, Though ominous planets congregate, and seem To foretell strange disasters.

From a dream-- Ah!

dear God!

such a dream!

--I woke to hear, Through the dense shadows lit by no star's gleam, The rush of mighty waters on my ear.

Helpless, afraid, and all alone, I lay;

The floods had come upon me unaware.

I heard the crash of structures that were fair;

The bridges of fond hopes were swept away By great salt waves of sorrow.

In dismay I saw by the red lightning's lurid glare That on the rock-bound island of despair I had been cast.

Till the dim dawn of day I heard my castles falling, and the roll Of angry billows bearing to the sea The broken timbers of my very soul.

Were all the pent-up waters from the whole Stupendous solar system to break free, There are no floods that now can frighten me.