Emily Dickinson Poems >>
An awful Tempest mashed the air

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An awful Tempest mashed the air -
The clouds were gaunt, and few -
A Black - as of a Spectre's Cloak
Hid Heaven and Earth from view.

The creatures chuckled on the Roofs -
And whistled in the air -
And shook their fists -
And gnashed their teeth -
And swung their frenzied hair.

The morning lit - the Birds arose -
The Monster's faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast -
And peace - was Paradise!