Tempest

You saw perched on a cliff a maid,

Her raiment white above the breakers,

When the mad sea reared up and

Its whips of spray on coastal

And now and then the lightnings flush,

And purple gleams upon her hover,

And fluttering up in swirling rush,

The wind rides in her airy cover?

Fair is the sea in gales arrayed,

The heavens drained of blue and flashing,

But fairer on her cliff the

Than storms and skies and breakers crashing.