Classic Poem

The hail like cannon-shot struck the sea
And churn'd it white as a creamy foam;
Then hail like battle-shot struck where we
Stood looking a-sea from a sea-girt home—
Came shooting askance as if shot at the head;
Then glass flew shiver'd and men fell down
And pray'd where they fell, and the gray old town
Lay riddled and helpless as if shot dead.

Then lightning right full in the eyes! and then
Fair women fell down flat on the face,
And pray'd their pitiful Mother with tears,
And pray'd black death as a hiding-place;
And good priests pray'd for the sea-bound men
As never good priests had pray'd for years.
Then God spake thunder! And then the rain!
The great, white, beautiful, high-born rain!