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XVIII.—THE TEMPEST.
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XVIII.—THE TEMPEST.

The tempest of the sovereignty of God
Down-smote me,—like a flower I fell before
His thunder's perilous terrific roar,
Crushed flat on the convulsed and trembling sod.

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The lightning flashed forth like his flaming rod,
And the utmost tingling heaven strange portents bore—
And life seemed just a bubble, nothing more—
And the universe like one red furnace glowed.
But soon the storm was over, and I heard
Loud in the tree-tops glistening from the rain,
The voice of Love sonorous as a bird
Who knows the speckled partner marks his strain:
And all God's sovereignty seemed now conferred
On Man and Woman—the lone god-like twain.