The Fugitive
In the hush of early even The clouds came flocking over, Till the last wind fell from heaven And no bird cried. Darkly the clouds were flocking, Shadows moved and deepened, Then paused; the poplar's rocking Ceased; the light hung still Like a painted thing, and deadly. Then from the cloud's side flickered Sharp lightning, thrusting madly At the cowering fields. Thrice the fierce cloud lighten'd, Down the hill slow thunder trembled; Day in her cave grew frightened, Crept away, and died.
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"In the hush of early even..."
John Frederick Freeman's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Fugitive"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...