A Night Of Storm.
Oh city, whom grey stormy hands have sown With restless drift, scarce broken now of any, Out of the dark thy windows dim and many Gleam red across the storm. Sound is there none, Save evermore the fierce wind's sweep and moan, From whose grey hands the keen white snow is shaken In desperate gusts, that fitfully lull and waken, Dense as night's darkness round thy towers of stone. Darkling and strange art thou thus vexed and chidden; More dark and strange thy veild agony, City of storm, in whose grey heart are hidden What stormier woes, what lives that groan and beat, Stern and thin-cheeked, against time's heavier sleet, Rude fates, hard hearts, and prisoning poverty.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"Oh city, whom grey stormy hands have sown..."
This evocative piece by Archibald Lampman, titled "A Night Of Storm.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...