XXXVII.

A THUNDER-STORM.

The wind begun to rock the grass With threatening tunes and low, -- He flung a menace at the earth, A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees And started all abroad; The dust did scoop itself like hands And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets, The thunder hurried slow; The lightning showed a yellow beak, And then a livid claw.

The birds put up the bars to nests, The cattle fled to barns; There came one drop of giant rain, And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold, The waters wrecked the sky, But overlooked my father's house, Just quartering a tree.

WITH FLOWERS.

South winds jostle them, Bumblebees come, Hover, hesitate, Drink, and are gone.

Butterflies pause On their passage Cashmere; I, softly plucking, Present them here!

SUNSET.

Where ships of purple gently toss On seas of daffodil, Fantastic sailors mingle, And then -- the wharf is still.