The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare,
The spray of the tempest is white in air;
The winds are out with the waves at play,
And I shall not tempt the sea to-day.
The trail is narrow, the wood is dim,
The panther clings to the arching limb;
And the lion’s whelps are abroad at play,
And I shall not join in the chase to-day.”
But the ship sailed safely over the sea,
And the hunters came from the chase in glee;
And the town that was builded upon a rock
Was swallowed up in the earthquake shock.
(Francis Bret Harte)
More Poetry from Francis Bret Harte:
Francis Bret Harte Poems based on Topics: Lions- Cadet Grey - Canto II (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
- A Legend Of Cologne (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
- For The King (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
- Friar Pedro's Ride (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
- Aspiring Miss DeLaine (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
- Concepcion De Arguello (Francis Bret Harte Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Lions PoemsBased on Keywords: whelps
- Of The Nature Of Things: Book IV - Part 04 - Some Vital Functions (Lucretius Poems)
- Book IV - Part 04 - Some Vital Functions (Lucretius Poems)
- Medulla Poetarum Romanorum - VOL. I. (Content - Courtship) (Henry Baker Poems)
- Army Of Northern Virginia (Stephen Vincent Benet Poems)
- Moslem Worship (John Pierpont Poems)