Written During A Storm. Poem by Susan Evance

CEASE your desolating sound,
O ye furious winds! forbear-
Every gust that swells around
Chills my shuddering heart with fear.

Ah! the thoughtless time is past
When I mark'd the rapid flight
Of each wildly rushing blast,
With romantic gay delight.

When in sportive frolic dance,
With the gale I skimm'd the plain,
Or would breathlessly advance,
Laughing at its fury vain.

Often too, in graver mood,
I have heard the tempest roll,
While a joy sublimely rude
Has possess'd and charm'd my soul.

But I cannot listen now
To the wild, the dreadful sound;
Sad I see the forest bow,
Mournful mark its groans around.

Fanciful I seem to hear
Ocean roaring in the storm:
And behold the bark appear,
Which contains a Brother's form.

Hope had pictur'd scenes of joy
When he reach'd his native shore-
Should the tempest these destroy!
- Winds, in pity blow no more.