Around, The Stillness Deepened; Then The Grain Went Wild With Wind; And Every Briery Lane Was Swept With Dust; And Then, Tempestuous Black, Hillward The Tempest Heaved A Monster Back, That On The Thunder Leaned As On A Cane; And On Huge Shoulders Bore A Cloudy Pack, That Gullied Gold From Many A Lightning-Crack: One Big Drop Splashed And Wrinkled Down The Pane, And Then Field, Hill, And Wood Were Lost In Rain. At Last, Through Clouds, - As From A Cavern Hewn. Into Night'S Heart, - The Sun Burst Angry Roon; And Every Cedar, With Its Weight Of Wet, Against The Sunset'S Fiery Splendor Set, Frightened To Beauty, Seemed With Rubies Strewn: Then In Drenched Gardens, Like Sweet Phantoms Met, Dim Odors Rose Of Pink And Mignonette; And In The East A Confidence, That Soon Grew To The Calm Assurance Of The Moon.