From cloud to cloud in a frenzied clash, A squall is born — Beneath it, restless in desolate seas, A wave is torn. Full of wild passion, it races in rage, Menacing the shores. Behind it, from jaws of a hundred mouths, The roar and tumult pour… Now iron-hard, it plunges to depths And churns the mud below; Now like a mighty bull it rears its head To lash the clouds with its tail’s fierce blow… But nearer… nearer — the wave subsides, Its fury spent; To an airy skiff its humbled back In meek submission bent… And now it barely laps the shore, Its wrath has fled. The sand is soft, the sunlight warm: Splash once — and rest instead.
