Songs and Sonnets (Coleman)/Voices of the Storm
VOICES OF THE STORM.
Where sweeps the broad St. Lawrence
I stood one windy day,
Upon a rocky islet
That faced the open bay,
And watched the breakers leaping
In towers of snow-white spray.
Like some invading army
Upon the rocks they bore,
With clamor and confusion,
And vast tumultuous roar;
Their mists, like smoke of battle,
Rolled white along the shore.
Upon my brow in baptism
Cold, stinging drops were flung,
And in my ears, like music,
The storm's wild chant was rung—
The chorus of the waters,
That knew nor speech nor tongue.
An elemental passion
Was in the stress and sweep,
And all at once responsive
I felt my pulses leap;
There seemed a subtle kinship
Betwixt me and the deep.
I shared its wild commotion,
The springs of its unrest,
The secret of its tumult
Lay hidden in my breast,
And in my heart a nameless
Wild exultation pressed.
Long past the day! Still often
Its mood will o'er me fall;
Again I hear those distant
Storm-voices call and call,
And know this busy getting
And spending is not all.