Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/121

Rh The storm had broken o er the sultry streets, But now the lessening clouds were flying east, And though the gentle shower still wet his face, The west was cloudless while the sun went down, And the bright seven-colored arch stood forth, Against the opposite dull gray. There was A beauty in the mingled storm and peace, Beyond clear sunshine, as the vast, green fields Basked in soft light, though glistening yet with rain. The roar of all the town was now a buzz Less than the insects drowsy murmuring That whirred their gauzy wings around his head. The breeze that follows on the sunsetting Was blowing whiffs of bruised and dripping grass Into the heated city. But he stood, Disconsolate with thoughts of fate and sin, Still wrestling with his soul to win it back From her who claimed it to eternity. Then on the delicate air there came to him The intonation of the minster bells, Chiming the vespers, musical and faint. He knew not what of dear and beautiful There was in those familiar peals, that spake Of his first boyhood and his innocence, Leading him back, with gracious influence, To pleasant thoughts and tender memories, And last, recalling the fair hour of hope He passed that morning in the church. Again,