 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
THE TEMPEST.
See the dark vapour clouds the sky,
The thunder rumbles round and round!
The lightning's flash begins to fly;
Big drops come pattering on the ground.
The frighten'd birds with ruffled wing,
Fly through the air, and cease to sing.
The thunder rumbles round and round!
The lightning's flash begins to fly;
Big drops come pattering on the ground.
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Fly through the air, and cease to sing.
Now nearer rolls the mighty peal:
Incessant thunder roars aloud;
Toss'd by the winds the tall oaks reel,
The forked lightning breaks the cloud;
Deep torrents drench the swimming plain
And sheets of fire descend with rain.
Incessant thunder roars aloud;
Toss'd by the winds the tall oaks reel,
The forked lightning breaks the cloud;
Deep torrents drench the swimming plain
And sheets of fire descend with rain.
'Tis God, who on the tempest rides,
And with a word directs the storm;
'Tis at His nod the wind subsides,
Or heaps of heavy vapours form:
In fire and clouds He walks the sky,
And lets His stores of tempest fly.
And with a word directs the storm;
'Tis at His nod the wind subsides,
Or heaps of heavy vapours form:
In fire and clouds He walks the sky,
And lets His stores of tempest fly.
Yet though beneath His power divine
My life depends upon His care,
Each right endeavour shall be mine;
Of every danger I'll beware!
Far from the metal bell-wire stand,
Nor on the door-lock keep my hand.
My life depends upon His care,
Each right endeavour shall be mine;
Of every danger I'll beware!
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Nor on the door-lock keep my hand.
When caught amidst the open field,
I'll not seek shelter from a tree;
Though from the falling rain a shield,
More dreadful might the lightning be:
Its tallest boughs might draw the fire,
And I, with sudden stroke, expire.
I'll not seek shelter from a tree;
Though from the falling rain a shield,
More dreadful might the lightning be:
Its tallest boughs might draw the fire,
And I, with sudden stroke, expire.
They need not dread the stormy day,
Or lightning flashing from the sky,
Who walk in wisdom's pleasant way.
And always are prepared to die:
I know no other way to hear
The thunder roll without a tear.
Or lightning flashing from the sky,
Who walk in wisdom's pleasant way.
And always are prepared to die:
I know no other way to hear
The thunder roll without a tear.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |