NATURE MOURNS

It’s a stormy, dark night

The seas flinging, frothing with foam

Toss in fitful slumber

On their white sand-beds.

The moon is ghastly,

Flees across a blackened sky.

The wind’s low voice

Has taken to dreadful, deep sobbing:

And the hills, with heads bowed

And shoulders hunched

Are draped in mourning.

What secret sorrow

What awful foe

Has taught nature

Such abysmal woe?