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An awful Tempest mashed the air-
The clouds were gaunt, and few-
A Black-as of a Spectre's Cloak
Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
The creatures chuckled on the Roofs-
And whistled in the air-
And shook their fists-
And gnashed their teeth-
And swung their frenzied hair.
The morning lit-the Birds arose-
The Monster's faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast-
And peace-was Paradise!
An Awful Tempest Mashed The Air
Emily Dickinson
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Poem topics: hair, heaven, peace, monster, earth, morning, paradise, black, view, native, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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