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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.