Classic Poem

Storm was coming: the air was brown
Swirling into opening heaven-gulfs of dirty yellow:
The dust eddied, and lamentation was on the woods …

In the heart brooded the packed forebodings of the wind …
Hot, ominous, smouldering with death …

And the youth, and she of the golden hair, also youth,
Stood on a great rock that jutted over the gorge,
And gazed down into the shadowy abyss …

Now he wanted to take her body in his arms,
And pierce that strength with his life …

He reached for her hand, but she drew back with a cry of anguish …
“There is a shadow,” she cried, “and a shape between us” …

And he looked, and between him and her,
He saw his Mother standing with vivid eyes.

The heavens burst: the autumnal rains came lashing:
The world was drowned in tempest.