On The Mountain

A storm from the mountain is coming, With lljjhtning and tbunder and rain The wind is sweeping and hrnnming Ir, the buttcrnut trees on the plain. The cloud Is ebou that follovrs, The fore cloud is llvid and pale, There's the flash and the tossing of swallowi In the tiin of the eddylng gale. And ihe rain le awake on the mountain i 'TU !shing the fovest afar With fall cf a nattering fouotain And the tramp and the tumult of war; W'.th the drums of the detoning thunder, And the clang in the bugles of wind, With the gonfalón! tortured asunder By the rush of the host from bahind. The plains are leaping with shadowg, The highlands go out like a blot, And over the eddying meadows The rain Is hurtled like shot. The darkness Í3 glooming and brightenlnf, There Is altérnate chaos and form, With the parry and thru9t of the lightniug lo the turbulent heart of the storm. '., Now the storm 16 over, And the greener plain Seems to glow and hover Through the thlnning rain. Now the wind is gusty In the maple tops, Striking out the lusty Storms of gluaming drops. Now the goldflnoh whlstle In his spattered vest, Balanoed on tho thistles, Bolder than the best. And the hermit thrushea, On the sparkling hills, Link the dripping hushea With their silver thrills.