In a scurry of clouds
Sudden day fell,
What ho! Ye swallows!
All is not well. With broken flights
They wheel through the sky,
And sea-gulls, wailing,
Go hurrying by. Up to the bars
The cattle fare,
And cries from the sheep-cote
Fill all the air. O'er the frightened sea
The storm-cloud leaps,
And its shadow behind
Like a garment sweeps. The slant rain beats
The sea into froth,
The hoarse winds have left
Their home in the north. High over the beach
Blows white foam-sleet,
On gray rock-walls
The green tides beat. The reef is drowned,
Boone Light is wiped out;
"It comes! It comes!"
The women-folk shout. Now all is blotted,
The world is no more, --
But water, and wind,
And the sea's uproar.