The faintest hint, not far away,
Of azure blue in iron grey,
A dragon’s tantrum turned to tears
In distant rumbling no one hears;
The spindrift settles to its source
As sky and sea renew divorce,
As blank Horizon snaps his rule
To right the world for beast and fool;
And men creep out with wary eyes
To scan the still uncertain skies.
The sun peeps out on ragged wings:
The storm has passed—
a small bird sings.