All night the wind Yelled at the house, The trees squeaked and hushed But the wind would not. All night the trees complained And the rain rushed and rained. Now in the cool Morning the trees stand, tall, Still and all composed -- Sun on their sunny pages. Of the storm only the riled Creek remembers; and rages. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MAN'S VOCATION IS NOBODY'S BUSINESS by JAMES GALVIN THYESTES, ACT 2: CHORUS by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA THE EARL O' QUARTERDECK by GEORGE MACDONALD AN EPITAPH ON A ROBIN REDBEAST by SAMUEL ROGERS THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 36. LIFE-IN-LOVE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI TO THE QUEEN by ALFRED TENNYSON |