Floods.

In the dark night, from sweet refreshing sleep          I wake to hear outside my window-pane          The uncurbed fury of the wild spring rain,              And weird winds lashing the defiant deep,              And roar of floods that gather strength and leap          Down dizzy, wreck-strewn channels to the main.          I turn upon my pillow and again              Compose myself for slumber.          Let them sweep;          I once survived great floods, and do not fear,              Though ominous planets congregate, and seem              To foretell strange disasters.          From a dream -          Ah! dear God! such a dream! - I woke to hear,              Through the dense shadows lit by no star's gleam,          The rush of mighty waters on my ear.              Helpless, afraid, and all alone, I lay;          The floods had come upon me unaware.          I heard the crash of structures that were fair;              The bridges of fond hopes were swept away              By great salt waves of sorrow. In dismay          I saw by the red lightning's lurid glare          That on the rock-bound island of despair              I had been cast. Till the dim dawn of day          I heard my castles falling, and the roll              Of angry billows bearing to the sea          The broken timbers of my very soul.          Were all the pent-up waters from the whole              Stupendous solar system to break free,              There are no floods that now can frighten me.