The farthest thunder that I heard

      Was nearer than the sky,

And rumbles still, though torrid noons

      Have lain their missiles by.

The lightning that preceded it

      Struck no one but myself,

But I would not exchange the bolt

      For all the rest of life.

Indebtedness to oxygen

      The chemist may repay,

But not the obligation

      To electricity.

It founds the homes and decks the days,

      And every clamor bright

Is but the gleam concomitant

      Of that waylaying light.

The thought is quiet as a flake,—

      A crash without a sound;

How life's reverberation

      Its explanation found!