Classic Poem

Three thunders like drum-beats of doom,
Three flashes of fiery gleam;
Two souls in that tempest of gloom,
The children of dream.

He sees down the roads of her eyes
The lanes where a great love has trod
To the beat of the song of the skies,
The music of God.

The lash of the hurricane-whips,
The roar of the thunder is gone;
But the joy of those dream-lovers' lips
Is still at the dawn.