The Cyclone.

So lone I stood, the very trees seemed drawn             In conference with themselves. - Intense - intense         Seemed everything; - the summer splendor on             The sight, - magnificence!         A babe's life might not lighter fail and die             Than failed the sunlight - Though the hour was noon,         The palm of midnight might not lighter lie             Upon the brow of June.         With eyes upraised, I saw the underwings             Of swallows - gone the instant afterward -         While from the elms there came strange twitterings,             Stilled scarce ere they were heard.         The river seemed to shiver; and, far down             Its darkened length, I saw the sycamores         Lean inward closer, under the vast frown             That weighed above the shores.         Then was a roar, born of some awful burst! -             And one lay, shrieking, chattering, in my path -         Flung - he or I - out of some space accurst             As of Jehovah's wrath:         Nor barely had he wreaked his latest prayer,             Ere back the noon flashed o'er the ruin done,         And, o'er uprooted forests touseled there,             The birds sang in the sun.