Master, we perish if thou sleep, We know not whence to fly; The thunder seems to rock the deep, Death frowns from all the sky. He rose, he ran, and looking out, He said, ye seas, be still; What art thou, cruel storm, about? All silenced at his will. Dost thou not know that thou art mine, And all thy liquid stores; Who ordered first the sun to shine And gild thy swelling shores. My smile is but the death of harm, Whilst riding on the wind, My power restrains the thunder's arm, Which dies in chains confined. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FAREWELL by GEORGE GASCOIGNE SPARKLING AND BRIGHT by CHARLES FENNO HOFFMAN TO THE UNIMPLORED BELOVED by EDWARD SHANKS FRATER AVE ATQUE VALE by ALFRED TENNYSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 129 by ALFRED TENNYSON MAY DAY by ADELAIDE A. ANDREWS SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 8. THEE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |