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The earth is rocking, the skies are riven--
Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion,
Is breaking read more
The earth is rocking, the skies are riven--
Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion,
Is breaking the crystal urns of heaven.
As far as could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
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As far as could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm,
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,
A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,
And threw it toward thy land.
I have heard a greater storm in a boiling pot.
I have heard a greater storm in a boiling pot.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
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Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.
Lightnings, that show the vast and foamy deep,
The rending thunders, as they onward roll,
The loud read more
Lightnings, that show the vast and foamy deep,
The rending thunders, as they onward roll,
The loud winds, that o'er the billows sweep--
Shake the firm nerve, appal the bravest soul!
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
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When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth.
Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
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Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured
His glassy essence--like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
would all themselves laugh mortal.
A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
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A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
Thy very beams will dry those vapors up,
For every cloud engenders not a storm.
