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A storm in a cream bowl.
- James Butler, first Duke of Ormonde,
A storm in a cream bowl.
- James Butler, first Duke of Ormonde,
Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like read more
Roads are wet where'er one wendeth,
And with rain the thistle bendeth,
And the brook cries like a child!
Not a rainbow shines to cheer us;
Ah! the sun comes never near us,
And the heavens look dark and wile.
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
read more
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
Making it momentany as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream,
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth,
And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!'
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.
The storm is master. Man, as a ball, is tossed twixt winds and
billows.
[Ger., Der Sturm ist read more
The storm is master. Man, as a ball, is tossed twixt winds and
billows.
[Ger., Der Sturm ist Meister; Wind und Well spielen
Ball mit dem Menschen.]
When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.
When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.
For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow-storms and
rain-storms and did my duty faithfully.
For many years I was self-appointed inspector of snow-storms and
rain-storms and did my duty faithfully.
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet read more
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly,
Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky.
Then let the good Thy mighty name revere,
And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce read more
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
Small show'rs last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding doth choke the feeder;
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
Your chances of getting struck by lightning go up if you stand under a tree, shake your fist at the read more
Your chances of getting struck by lightning go up if you stand under a tree, shake your fist at the sky, and say "Storms suck!"