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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Storm</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Against the stone breakwater,<br>Only an ominous lapping,<br>While the wind whines overhead,<br>Coming down from the mountain,<br>Whistling between the arbors, the winding terraces;<br>A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves,<br>And the small street-lamp swinging and slamming against<br> the lamp pole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where have the people gone?<br>There is one light on the mountain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">2</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Along the sea-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell,<br>The waves not yet high, but even,<br>Coming closer and closer upon each other;<br>A fine fume of rain driving in from the sea,<br>Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of buckshot,<br>The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending,<br>Flicking the foam from the whitecaps straight upward into the darkness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A time to go home!--<br>And a child's dirty shift billows upward out of an alley,<br>A cat runs from the wind as we do,<br>Between the whitening trees, up Santa Lucia,<br>Where the heavy door unlocks,<br>And our breath comes more easy--<br>Then a crack of thunder, and the black rain runs over us, over<br>The flat-roofed houses, coming down in gusts, beating<br>The walls, the slatted windows, driving<br>The last watcher indoors, moving the cardplayers closer<br>To their cards, their anisette.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">3</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We creep to our bed, and its straw mattress.<br>We wait; we listen.<br>The storm lulls off, then redoubles,<br>Bending the trees half-way down to the ground,<br>Shaking loose the last wizened oranges in the orchard,<br>Flattening the limber carnations.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A spider eases himself down from a swaying light-bulb,<br>Running over the coverlet, down under the iron bedstead.<br>Water roars into the cistern.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We lie closer on the gritty pillow,<br>Breathing heavily, hoping--<br>For the great last leap of the wave over the breakwater,<br>The flat boom on the beach of the towering sea-swell,<br>The sudden shudder as the jutting sea-cliff collapses,<br>And the hurricane drives the dead straw into the living pine-tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Theodore+Roethke">Theodore Roethke</a><div class=q>
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<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=529065" data-title="The Storm de Theodore Roethke" data-description="1

Against the stone breakwater,
Only an ominous lapping,
While the wind whines overhead,
Coming down from the mountain,
Whistling between the arbors, the winding terraces;
A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves,
And the small st..."></div>
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