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...MOUNTAIN VALLEY by MALCOLM COWLEY POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST PUSSY-WILLOW TIME by ROBERT FROST BEARING LEAVES AGAIN by DAVID IGNATOW DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MATE (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON POSSUM SONG (A WARNING) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |