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.
