Normale Version: Johnson, Mary F.: Thunder Storm
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Loud, louder still, resounds the thundering peal;
The troubled deep reflects the vivid flash;
Their bounds with deepened roar the white waves dash,
And yon black, billowy clouds their slow course wheel.

Mournful, amid the elemental crash,
Their hollow, broken groans the raised winds deal,
The sighing copses, bending to their lash,
Scarcely the frighted, moaning herd conceal.

Let fear, within the closet's gloom, deter
Them whose weak hearts amid the tempest shrink:
May I, whene'er these awful scenes occur,

Stand on this clefted rock's indented brink;
Here with the genius of the storm confer,
And let my soul from grandeur's fountain drink.