Too long, O Spirit of Storm, <br />Thy lightning sleeps in its sheath! <br />I am sick to the soul of yon pallid sky, <br />And the moveless sea beneath. <br /> <br />Come down in thy strength on the deep! <br />Worse dangers there are in life, <br />When the waves are still, and the skies look fair, <br />Than in their wildest strife. <br /> <br />A friend I knew, whose days <br />Were as calm as this sky overhead; <br />But one blue morn that was fairest of all, <br />The heart in his bosom fell dead. <br /> <br />And they thought him alive while he walked <br />The streets that he walked in youth -- <br />Ah! little they guessed the seeming man <br />Was a soulless corpse in sooth. <br /> <br />Come down in thy strength, O Storm! <br />And lash the deep till it raves! <br />I am sick to the soul of that quiet sea, <br />Which hides ten thousand graves.<br /><br />Henry Timrod<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/too-long-o-spirit-of-storm/
