Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre's Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view. The creatures chuckled on the Roofs— And whistled in the air— And shook their fists— And gnashed their teeth— And swung their frenzied hair. The morning lit—the Birds arose— The Monster's faded eyes Turned slowly to his native coast— And peace—was Paradise!
Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:17 PM | Viewed: 9000 times
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Emily Dickinson
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