THE WHIRLWIND.

It comes with its swift, destructive tread,
     It tosses the waves on high,
And it hurries away where the lightnings play,
     Through the black and frowning sky;
And the weeping clouds are madly driven

By its violent breath, o’er the face of heaven.

It leaps through the woods in its fearless flight,
     Uprooting the firm-set trees; [Page 112]
And it shivers the trunk of the kingly oak,
     That had long defied the breeze;

Hurling down, in its furious mirth,
These tough and sturdy limbs to earth.

Away it flies, with a maniac howl,
     To the mountains’ dismal height,
And it lifts the rocks from their granite beds,

     By the force of its giant might;
Waking the birds from their brief repose,
And spreading dismay where’er it goes! [Page 113]