<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117964" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hurricane</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">"We are the birds of the coming storm." — August Spies<br> </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tide is out, the wind blows off the shore;<br>Bare burn the white sands in the scorching sun;<br>The sea complains, but its great voice is low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Bitter thy woes, O People,<br> And the burden<br> Hardly to be borne!<br> Wearily grows, O People,<br> All the aching<br> Of thy pierced heart, bruised and torn!<br> But yet thy time is not,<br> And low thy moaning.<br> Desert thy sands!<br> Not yet is thy breath hot,<br> Vengefully blowing;<br> It wafts o'er lifted hands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tide has turned; the vane veers slowly round;<br>Slow clouds are sweeping o'er the blinding light;<br>White crests curl on the sea— its voice grows deep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Angry thy heart, O People!<br> And its bleeding<br> Fire-tipped with rising hate!<br> Thy clasped hands part, O People,<br> For thy praying<br> Warmed not the desolate!<br> God did not hear thy moan:<br> Now it is swelling<br> To a great drowning cry;<br> A dark wind-cloud, a groan,<br> Now backward veering<br> From that deaf sky!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The tide flows in, the wind roars from the depths,<br>The whirled-White sand heaps with the foam-white waves;<br>Thundering the sea rolls o'er its shell-crunched wall!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Strong is thy rage, O People,<br> In its fury<br> Hurling thy tyrants down!<br> Thou metest wage, O People.<br> Very swiftly,<br> Now that thy hate is grown:<br> Thy time at last is come;<br> Thou heapest anguish,<br> Where thou thyself wert bare!<br> No longer to thy dumb.<br> God clasped and kneeling.<br> Thou answerest thine own prayer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Voltairine+de+Cleyre">Voltairine de Cleyre</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117964" data-title="The Hurricane de Voltairine de Cleyre" data-description=""We are the birds of the coming storm." — August Spies/ /The tide is out, the wind blows off the shore;/Bare burn the white sands in the scorching sun;/The sea complains, but its great voice is low./ Bitter thy woes, O People,/ And the burden/ H..."></div> </div> </div>

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