Poetry
... voury. 1 THE STORM. Hark! holy the wind comes gathering ia its course, And. s.wyeping onward with resistless force, Howls through the silent space of starless skics, And onl the breast rti the swoln ocean dies. Oh ! Thou urt terrible, thou viewless Posver! That vid'st de troying at :he midnight hour ! Wo hear thy mighty passion, but the eyo Knows nothing of thins awsfuti mlesty. Weasee all ...