I 'll come again to-morrow.
LAST MOVEMENT.
Hurricane signals gather apace
Thickly over the pale moon's face;
Masses of blackness looming forth,
South'ard and eastward, west and north,
Wild wind veering, ever and aye,
Over the compass—over the sky.
Mutter of thunder, lurid gleams,
Rain that clashes in deluge-streams.