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.
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