Classic Poem

Down rocky chasm, wide and deep,
Whose bed was dry through summer days,
With many a run, and many a leap,
A noisy, foam-flecked brooklet strays.

Soon will a river's widening floods,
Mad with the burst of long pent rains,
Come thundering from the mountain woods
To dash in fury on the plains.

Soon will the hill-top and the cloud
Send forth their cataracts far and near,
And voice of many waters loud
Will all the caverned summits hear.

Thus oft do mountain tribes, grown strong,
With hearts too big for bounds of yore,
Down all the rocky passes throng,
And on the frightened valleys pour.

O people of the plains, build high,
Build strong your battlements, build tight,
Before the angry floods come nigh
Aud sack your city in the night!