It was a village in a plain. 
  High mountains screened it from the rain
  And stormy wind; and nigh at hand
  A bubbling streamlet flowed, o’er sand
  Pebbly and fine, and sent life up
  Green succous stalk and flower-cup.

  Gradually, day’s harbinger,
  A chilly wind began to stir. 
  It seemed a gentle powerless breeze
  That scarcely rustled thro’ the trees;
  And yet it touched the mountain’s head
  And the paths man might never tread. 
  But hearken:  in the quiet weather
  Do all the streams flow down together?—­
  No, ’tis a sound more terrible
  Than tho’ a thousand rivers fell. 
  The everlasting ice and snow
  Were loosened then, but not to flow;—­
  With a loud crash like solid thunder
  The avalanche came, burying under
  The village; turning life and breath
  And rest and joy and plans to death.

  “Oh! let us fly, for pity fly;
  Let us go hence, friend, thou and I.
  There must be many regions yet
  Where these things make not desolate.” 
  He looked upon her seriously;
  Then said:  “Arise and follow me.” 
  The path that lay before them was
  Nigh covered over with long grass;
  And many slimy things and slow
  Trailed on between the roots below. 
  The moon looked dimmer than before;
  And shadowy cloudlets floating o’er
  Its face sometimes quite hid its light,
  And filled the skies with deeper night.

  At last, as they went on, the noise
  Was heard of the sea’s mighty voice;
  And soon the ocean could be seen
  In its long restlessness serene. 
  Upon its breast a vessel rode
  That drowsily appeared to nod
  As the great billows rose and fell,
  And swelled to sink, and sank to swell.

  Meanwhile the strong wind had come forth
  From the chill regions of the North,
  The mighty wind invisible. 
  And the low waves began to swell;
  And the sky darkened overhead;
  And the moon once looked forth, then fled
  Behind dark clouds; while here and there
  The lightning shone out in the air;
  And the approaching thunder rolled
  With angry pealings manifold. 
  How many vows were made, and prayers
  That in safe times were cold and scarce. 
  Still all availed not; and at length
  The waves arose in all their strength,
  And fought against the ship, and filled
  The ship.  Then were the clouds unsealed,
  And the rain hurried forth, and beat
  On every side and over it.

  Some clung together, and some kept
  A long stern silence, and some wept. 
  Many half-crazed looked on in wonder
  As the strong timbers rent asunder;
  Friends forgot friends, foes fled to foes;—­
  And still the water rose and rose.

  “Ah woe is me!  Whom I have seen
  Are now as tho’ they had not been. 
  In the earth there is room for birth,
  And there are graves enough in earth;
  Why should the cold sea, tempest-torn,
  Bury those whom it hath not borne?”