A Thunderstorm

Archibald Lampman

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A moment the wild swallows like a flight
Of withered gust-caught leaves, serenely high,
Toss in the windrack up the muttering sky.
The leaves hang still. Above the weird twilight,
The hurrying centres of the storm unite
And spreading with huge trunk and rolling fringe,
Each wheeled upon its own tremendous hinge,
Tower darkening on. And now from heaven's height,
With the long roar of elm-trees swept and swayed,
And pelted waters, on the vanished plain
Plunges the blast. Behind the wild white flash
That splits abroad the pealing thunder-crash,
Over bleared fields and gardens disarrayed,
Column on column comes the drenching rain.

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Comments2
  • raeleshia

    "Wild swallows" part takes me back, love it

    • charliebarlee14

      I've always admired Archibald Lampman's ability to bring scenarios to life with his words. His description of a thunderstorm is so vivid that I could almost feel the gusting wind and the torrential downpour right here in my study. His words carry the force of nature in them; it's truly an experience reading his work.