Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
VIII. An hour agone!and prostrate Nature layPaul Hamilton Hayne (18301886)
A
Like some sore-smitten creature nigh to death,
With feverish, parchéd lips, with laboring breath,
And languid eyeballs, darkening to the day;
A burning N
Earth, wave, and air; the ghastly-stretching heath,
The sullen trees, the fainting flowers beneath,
Drooped hopeless, shrivelling in the torrid ray;—
When, like a sudden, cheerful trumpet, blown
Far off by rescuing spirits, rose the wind
Urging great hosts of clouds; the thunder’s tone
Breaks into wrath; the rainy cataracts fall;
But, pausing soon, behold Creation shrined
In a new birth,—God’s Covenant clasping all!