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Poem by Paul Hamilton Hayne


The Coming of the Wind


An hour agone, and prostrate Nature lay
Like some sore-smitten creature nigh to death,
With feverish parched lips, with labouring breath,
And languid eyeballs darkening to the day.
A burning noontide ruled with merciless sway
Earth, wave, and air; the ghastly-stretching heath,
The sullen trees, the fainting flowers beneath,
Drooped hopeless, shrivelling in the torrid ray;Ч
When, like a sudden, cheerful trumpet blown
Far off by rescuing spirits, rose the wind
Urging great hosts of clouds; the thunder's tone
Breaks into wrath; the rainy cataracts fall.
But, pausing, lo, behold Creation shrined
In a new birth,ЧGod's covenant clasping all!



Paul Hamilton Hayne


Paul Hamilton Hayne's other poems:
  1. An Idle Poet, Dreaming in the Sun
  2. Too Oft the Poet in Elaborate Verse
  3. BabyТs First Word
  4. The Laughing Hours before Her Feet
  5. A Phantom in the Clouds


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