I
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
· (no date)
Published 01/07/1880
Part of The Fugitives
The waters are flashing,
The white hail is dashing.
The lightnings are glancing,
The hoar-spray is dancing—
Away!
The whirlwind is rolling,
The thunder is tolling,
The forest is swinging.
The minster bells ringing
Come away!
The Earth is like Ocean,
Wreck-strewn and in motion:
Bird, beast, man and worm
Have crept out of the storm—
Come away!