I have heard a greater storm in a boiling pot.

I have heard a greater storm in a boiling pot.

Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
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Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud
Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud:
Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears;
And instant death on every wave appears.

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it,
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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.

Lightnings, that show the vast and foamy deep,
The rending thunders, as they onward roll,
The loud read more

Lightnings, that show the vast and foamy deep,
The rending thunders, as they onward roll,
The loud winds, that o'er the billows sweep--
Shake the firm nerve, appal the bravest soul!

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.]

The earth is rocking, the skies are riven--
Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion,
Is breaking read more

The earth is rocking, the skies are riven--
Jove in a passion, in god-like fashion,
Is breaking the crystal urns of heaven.

Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
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Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured
His glassy essence--like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
would all themselves laugh mortal.

A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
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A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
Thy very beams will dry those vapors up,
For every cloud engenders not a storm.

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!"