Tempest

You saw perched on a cliff a maid,

Her raiment white above the breakers,

When the mad sea reared up and played Its whips of spray-on coastal acres

And now and then the lightning flush, And purple gleams upon her hover,

And fluttering up in a swirling rush,

Does the wind ride in her airy cover?

Fair is the sea in gales arrayed,

The heavens drained of blue and flashing,

But fairer on her cliff the maid

Then storms and skies and breakers crash.