Poems by Katherine Mansfield
The Storm
The Storm
I ran to the forest for shelter,
Breathless, half sobbing;
I put my arms round a tree,
Pillowed my head against the rough bark.
“Protect me,” I said. “I am a lost child.”
But the tree showered silver drops on my face and hair.
A wind sprang up from the ends of the earth;
It lashed the forest together.
A huge green wave thundered and burst over my head.
I prayed, implored, “Please take care of me !”
But the wind pulled at my cloak and the rain beat upon me.
Little rivers tore up the ground and swamped the bushes.
A frenzy possessed the earth : I felt that the earth was drowning
In a bubbling cavern of space. I alone—
Smaller than the smallest fly—was alive and terrified.
Then, for what reason I know not, I became triumphant.
“Well, kill me !” I cried and ran out into the open.
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But the storm ceased : the sun spread his wings
And floated serene in the silver pool of the sky.
I put my hands over my face : I was blushing.
And the trees swung together and delicately laughed.
1911.