A HAILSTORM IN VENICE.
Joaquin Miller
he hail like cannon-shot struck the sea - And churn'd it white as a creamy foam;
- Then hail like battle-shot struck where we
- Stood looking a-sea from a sea-girt home—
- Came shooting askance as if shot at the head;
- Then glass flew shiver'd and men fell down
- And pray'd where they fell, and the gray old town
- Lay riddled and helpless as if shot dead.
- Then lightning right full in the eyes! and then
- Fair women fell down flat on the face,
- And pray'd their pitiful Mother with tears,
- And pray'd black death as a hiding-place;
- And good priests pray'd for the sea-bound men
- As never good priests had pray'd for years....
- Then God spake thunder! And then the rain!
- The great, white, beautiful, high-born rain!