The spring-wind pass'd through the forest, and whispered low in the leaves, <br />And the cedar toss'd her head, and the oak stood firm in his pride ; <br />The spring-wind pass'd through the town, through the housetops, casements, and eaves, <br />And whisper'd low in the hearts of the men, and the men replied, <br />Singing—'Let us rejoice in the light <br />Of our glory, and beauty, and might ; <br />Let us follow our own devices, and foster our own desires. <br />As firm as our oaks in our pride, as our cedars fair in our sight, <br />We stand like the trees of the forest that brave the frosts and the fires.' <br /> <br />The storm went forth to the forest, the plague went forth to the town, <br />And the men fell down to the plague, as the trees fell down to the gale ; <br />And their bloom was a ghastly pallor, and their smile was a ghastly frown, <br />And the song of their hearts was changed to a wild, disconsolate wail, <br />Crying—'God ! we have sinn'd, we have sinn'd, <br />We are bruised, we are shorn, we are thinn'd, <br />Our strength is turn'd to derision, our pride laid low in the dust, <br />Our cedars are cleft by Thy lightnings, our oaks are strew'd by Thy wind, <br />And we fall on our faces seeking Thine aid, though Thy wrath is just.'<br /><br />Adam Lindsay Gordon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-lightning-and-tempest/
