WE sat together close and warm, My little tired boy and I— Watching across the evening sky The coming of the storm. No rumblings rose, no thunders crashed, The west-wind scarcely sang aloud; But from a huge and solid cloud The summer lightnings flashed. And then he whispered "Father, watch; I think God's going to light His moon—" "And when, my boy"..."Oh, very soon— I saw Him strike a match!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...O GLORIOUS FRANCE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A WAR SONG TO ENGLISHMEN by WILLIAM BLAKE ALL THAT'S PAST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE H. BAPTISME (2) by GEORGE HERBERT A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 63 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN |