The Blustering Night, by Robert Leighton

The Blustering Night

The wind burst, like an enemy at night,
Into our town, and battled in the streets,
While peaceful folks lay stretch'd in wakeful sheets; --
But bolted doors withstood the invader's might.   From street to street, in rumbling, roaring din,
He madly ran, and batter'd at the gates;
The house-tops scaled, and hurtled down the slates,
Push'd at the doors, and clamour'd to get in.   The window-shutters to the wall he dash'd,
Howl'd through the window, rattled on the pane,
Rush'd up the entries, hurried back again,
Pull'd down the sign-boards, and the street-lamps smash'd.   The town rock'd like a ship, and the alarm
Deafen'd the insider ear of all our houses:
We could not hear each other for wild noises,
And bawl'd aloud, like sailors in a storm.   He raked the gables, toppled chimneys down,
And had done more, but lo! The Morning came:
Beneath her innocent eye he quail'd in shame,
Mutter'd a curse or two, and left the town.   We heard him, as he pass'd the eastern port,
Bully the suburbs. When he reach'd the leas,
He tamed in valour to a simple breeze,
And whistled o'er the moors in rural sport.

poems.one - Robert Leighton

Robert Leighton