All night the wind Yelled at the house, The trees squeaked and hushed But the wind would not. All night the trees complained And the rain rushed and rained. Now in the cool Morning the trees stand, tall, Still and all composed -- Sun on their sunny pages. Of the storm only the riled Creek remembers; and rages. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GREAT LOVER by RUPERT BROOKE RIDDLE ON THE LETTER H (2) by CATHERINE MARIA FANSHAWE THE HILL WIFE: THE OFT-REPEATED DREAM by ROBERT FROST TO THE THAWING WIND by ROBERT FROST EPIGRAM ENGRAVED ON THE COLLAR OF A DOG by ALEXANDER POPE STELLA'S BIRTHDAY, 1718 by JONATHAN SWIFT |