Floods.

        In the dark night, from sweet refreshing sleep
    I wake to hear outside my window-pane
    The uncurbed fury of the wild spring rain,
        And weird winds lashing the defiant deep,
        And roar of floods that gather strength and leap
    Down dizzy, wreck-strewn channels to the main.
    I turn upon my pillow and again
        Compose myself for slumber.
    Let them sweep;
    I once survived great floods, and do not fear,
        Though ominous planets congregate, and seem
        To foretell strange disasters.
    From a dream -
    Ah! dear God! such a dream! - I woke to hear,
        Through the dense shadows lit by no star's gleam,
    The rush of mighty waters on my ear.
        Helpless, afraid, and all alone, I lay;
    The floods had come upon me unaware.
    I heard the crash of structures that were fair;
        The bridges of fond hopes were swept away
        By great salt waves of sorrow. In dismay
    I saw by the red lightning's lurid glare
    That on the rock-bound island of despair
        I had been cast. Till the dim dawn of day
    I heard my castles falling, and the roll
        Of angry billows bearing to the sea
    The broken timbers of my very soul.
    Were all the pent-up waters from the whole
        Stupendous solar system to break free,
        There are no floods that now can frighten me.