Stories in Verse
And earth a tear upon the cheek of space.

The mighty fiend of storm in wild unrest,

By lightning stabbed, dragged slowly up the plain;

Great clots of light, like blood, dripped down his breast,

And from his open jaws fell foam in rain.

XVI. IN THE CHURCH-YARD.

Where the sun shineth,

Through the willow trees,

[Pg 19]

And the church standeth,

'Mid the tomb-stones white,

Planting anemones

I saw my delight.

Her mother sleepeth

Beneath the green mound;

A white cross standeth

To show man the place.

Now close to the ground

Blanche bendeth her face.

She quickly riseth


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