Last night we had a thunderstorm in style. The wild lightning streaked the airs, As though my God fell down a pair of stairs. The thunder boomed and bounded all the while; All cried and sat by water-side and stile, ''" To mop our brow had been our chief of cares. I lay in bed with a Voltairean smile, The terror of good, simple guilty pairs, And made this rondeau in ironic style, Last night we had a thunderstorm in style. Our God the Father fell down-stairs, The stark blue lightning went its flight the while, The very rain you might have heard a mile, ''" The strenuous faithful buckled to their prayers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE OVIDIAN ELEGIAC METRE, DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE GRASS FINGERS by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 9. AT THE ALTAR-RAIL by THOMAS HARDY CONSECRATION HYMN by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL THE BALLAD OF DEAD LADIES by FRANCOIS VILLON THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |