The Storm 1. I see the use : and know my blood Is not a sea, But a shallow, bounded flood, Though red as he ; Yet have I flows, as strong as his, And boiling streams that rave With the same curling force, and hiss, As doth the mountain'd wave. 2. But when his waters billow thus, Dark storms, and wind Incite them to that fierce discuss, Else not inclin'd, Thus the enlarg'd, enragèd air Uncalms these to a flood ; But still the weather that's most fair Breeds tempests in my blood. 3. Lord, then round me with weeping clouds, And let my mind In quick blasts sigh beneath those shrouds, A spirit-wind ; So shall that storm purge this recluse Which sinful ease made foul, And wind and water to Thy use Both wash and wing my soul. |
English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |