 | Plays and poems |  |
425
[Another shriek like that, O furious wind]
Another shriek like that, O furious wind,Will madden me! Is there no hand to check
Thy wild career? no power whose awful beck
May lull thy frenzied wrath? For thou art blind
With loosened passion; and, thus unconfined,
Thou dost abuse thy license, to the wreck
Of all creation. Now, how reels the deck
Above my helpless love! How every mind,
Pent in that groaning vessel, paints its thought
Of shameless fear upon each pallid face!
How the infectious passion spreads! till, base
With selfish terror, man is worse than naught,
And manhood but a name. If prayers are aught,
God, stand me near her, in some coward's place!
| Plays and poems | |