. Waifs, and their authors . Storm—the King ! i I live in a forest of fire and cloud, J You may hear my batteries sharp and loud _ .; In the summer night, • ^ When I and my warriors ai-m for the fight; . And the willows moan, And the cedars groan, And they bend beneath the terrible spring Of Storm, the King ! I am Storm—the King! < My troops are the wind, and the hail, and the rain ; ^ My foes are the woods and the feathery grain ; • The mail-clad oak That gnarls his front to my chaige and stroke; •: The ships on the sea, ] The blooms on the lea,— \And they writhe and break as the wai--crie
. Waifs, and their authors . Storm—the King ! i I live in a forest of fire and cloud, J You may hear my batteries sharp and loud _ .; In the summer night, • ^ When I and my warriors ai-m for the fight; . And the willows moan, And the cedars groan, And they bend beneath the terrible spring Of Storm, the King ! I am Storm—the King! < My troops are the wind, and the hail, and the rain ; ^ My foes are the woods and the feathery grain ; • The mail-clad oak That gnarls his front to my chaige and stroke; •: The ships on the sea, ] The blooms on the lea,— \And they writhe and break as the wai--cries ring Of Storm, the King! ^ I am Storm—the King! ■ I drove the sea oer the Leyden dykes, i And a deadlier foe than the burgher pikes; • To the wall I bore i The Ark of Delft from the oceans shore, I Oer vale and mead, \ With war-like Spaniards fled from the deluge ring Of Storm, the King ! ^ I am Storm—the King! I saw an armada set sail from Spam, ^ To sprinkle with blood a maidens reign ; ;j. FRANCIS M. FINCH. idj I met the hostWith shattering blows on the island coas And tore each deck To shreds and a wreck ;And the Saxon poets the praises sing Of Storm, the King! I am Storm—the King !My marshals are four—the swart simoon,Sirocco, tornado, and swift typhoon ; My realm is the world,Wherever a pennon is waved or furled ; My stern command Sweeps sea and land ;And none unharmed a scoff may fling At Storm, the King ! I am Storm—the King !I scour the earth, the sea, the air,And drag the trees by their emerald hair A chase for game ;With a leap and a scream, the prairies flame. The commerce ark And the pirate bark ;And none may escape the terrible spring Of Storm, the King ! As a newspaper poet, in the sense of having beenwidely read and universally appreciated, Mr. Finch standsamong the few. It is the publics loss that he so persist-ently hides his poetic light, as it was the publics gainwhen he yielded once to a better impulse, and gave usThe
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, books, booksubjectamericanpoetry
