Convulsions came; and, where the field Long slept in pastoral green, A goblin-mountain was upheaved (Sure the scared sense was all deceived), Marl-glen and slag-ravine. The unreserve of Ill was there, The clinkers in her last retreat; But, ere the eye could take it in, Or mind could comprehension win, It sunk! -- and at our feet. So, then, Solidity's a crust -- The core of fire below; All may go well for many a year, But who can think without a fear Of horrors that happen so? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 31 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN WILD PLUM BLOSSOMS by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE SHOES THAT DANCED by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH VICTORIAN JOURNALISM by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB ZOPHIEL; OR THE BRIDE OF SEVEN: CANTO 6. BRIDAL OF HELEN by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS SPECULA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ON A DREAM by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |