The Storm - Poem by Frank Halliwell
The sultry day was near its end,
The cloying heat distressed.
The cool of evening getting near,
But still the air oppressed.
A mounting shadow from the west
Conceals the distant hills.
No breath of air disturbs the leaves,
The atmosphere is still.
The thunderhead obscures the light,
-A tower in the sky.
It roils and boils up high above,
'Tis plain a storm is nigh.
Then suddenly a burst of wind-
A breath of frigid air,
From deep within the giant cloud
The signal to beware!
A sudden flash, a crash of sound
Thor's hammer fills the night
The flares of lightning make the sky
A latticework of light.
Then lashing rain borne by the wind
That swirls the compass round.
The loud drum roll of thunder that
Now fills the world with sound.
Until at last it moves away,
Still grumbling as it fades.
The lights still flash within the cloud,
And distant cannonades.
But all the world has been reborn,
The air smells fresh at last.
The garden now can grow anew,
Now that the storm has passed.
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