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Poem by Francis Bret Harte


"The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare,
The spray of the tempest is white in air;
The winds are out with the waves at play,
And I shall not tempt the sea to-day.

The trail is narrow, the wood is dim,
The panther clings to the arching limb;
And the lion`s whelps are abroad at play,
And I shall not join in the chase to-day.

But the ship sailed safely over the sea,
And the hunters came from the chase in glee;
And the town that was builded upon a rock
Was swallowed up in the earthquake shock.

Francis Bret Harte

Francis Bret Harte's other poems:
  1. The Babes in the Woods
  2. On a Cone of the Big Trees
  3. For the King
  4. Dows Flat
  5. Twenty Years

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • George MacDonald Fate ("Oft, as I rest in quiet peace, am I")
  • Ralph Emerson Fate ("DEEP in the man sits fast his fate")

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