STORM

       

            I hear the pier-ding, whistling wind

           The rattling, drumming rain

            Come beating upon my window pane;

            I see the cracking, breaking acacia twigs

            The pliant bamboos bowing agonizingly to the wind

            Leaves a-flying, tossing to unknown sphere;

            Storm . . . storm, over the vastness is ranging

            O'er fields ----- the rice and corn stalks lie a waste

            And bananas rows on plain and hills death-

                     proclaimed.

            Now, mid this groaning, encircling gloom

            My knees a-trembling in fear refuse to hold

            O' God, Thy moment comes but take man in Thy fold