There’s snow, there’s hai’l wi’ the Nor’-West Gale,
There’s sleet and there’s rattling rain,
There’s many a gust o’ the spindrift dust
On the dim, rough watery plain.
There’s hissing ahead, there’s a howl aloft
Where the flurry o’ smoke finds vent,
While chords o’ woe, now high, now low,
From the stays o’ the mast are rent.
Anon there’s a crack in the scurrying wrack,
And the sun bursts bravely through,
Till all that was grey or hidden away
Is silver and white and blue;
All silver and white and blue-so bright
That nought in the day’s amiss,
And the scourge o’ the wind is a sheer delight,
The sting o’ the spray a kiss.
Again, at a word, the hills are blurred
With vapours that downward race,
The sun goes out to a long-drawn shout,
For the squall drives on apace.
And, hark-oh, hark ! as the firth grows dark
To the passion o’ wind and sea,
For here is the strife that still makes life
Most wonderful, joyous, free.
There’s snow, there’s hail wi’ the Nor’-West Gale,
There’s sleet and there’s rattling rain,
There’s many a gust o’ the spindrift dust
On the dim, rough watery plain. . . .
” Ho ! man o’ the town, when your hopes grow stale,
And the God of your faith seems far,
Come out! Get whipped !” says the Nor’-West Gale-
“Get whipped-like the child you are !”
(John Joy Bell)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, God Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Snow Poems, Kiss Poems, Passion PoemsBased on Keywords: scurrying