WE sat together close and warm, My little tired boy and I— Watching across the evening sky The coming of the storm. No rumblings rose, no thunders crashed, The west-wind scarcely sang aloud; But from a huge and solid cloud The summer lightnings flashed. And then he whispered "Father, watch; I think God's going to light His moon—" "And when, my boy"..."Oh, very soon— I saw Him strike a match!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE GIRL LOST, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE SOJOURN IN THE WHALE by MARIANNE MOORE IDYLLS OF THE KING: GERAINT AND ENID by ALFRED TENNYSON TO TWO BEREAVED by THOMAS ASHE SATIRE: 4 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS |