"Oh father, let us hence-for hark, A fearful murmur shakes the air; The clouds are coming swift and dark;- What horrid shapes they wear! A wingèd giant sails the sky; Oh father, father, let us fly!" "Hush, child; it is a grateful sound, That beating of the summer shower; Here, where the boughs hang close around, We'll pass a pleasant hour, Till the fresh wind, that brings the rain, Has swept the broad heaven clear again." "Nay, father, let us haste-for see, That horrid thing with hornèd brow- His wings o'erhang this very tree, He scowls upon us now; His huge black arm is lifted high; Oh father, father, let us fly!" "Hush, child;" but, as the father spoke, Downward the livid firebolt came, Close to his ear the thunder broke, And, blasted by the flame, The child lay dead; while dark and still Swept the grim cloud along the hill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (2) by THOMAS CAREW AFFINITIES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE SENTRY'S MISTAKE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE TRAGIC MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS: 1 by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY OCTOBER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |