Convulsions came; and, where the field Long slept in pastoral green, A goblin-mountain was upheaved (Sure the scared sense was all deceived), Marl-glen and slag-ravine. The unreserve of Ill was there, The clinkers in her last retreat; But, ere the eye could take it in, Or mind could comprehension win, It sunk! -- and at our feet. So, then, Solidity's a crust -- The core of fire below; All may go well for many a year, But who can think without a fear Of horrors that happen so? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE STORY OF ZERBIN AND ISABELLA, FR. ORLANDO FURIOSO by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO TO A FLOWER by CORRINNE M. ARTHUR A LUNCHEON (THOMAS HARDY ENTERTAINS THE PRINCE OF WALES) by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM CHORUS OF A SONG THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN BY ALBERT CHEVALIER by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM REALISM by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: A CONVENT WITHOUT GOD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |