L’Orage
(Little Coogee)
By Charles F.A. de Monchaux

Low distant mutterings out of the sky,
Sombre grey canopy, darkling and lour,
Storm madden’d sea-foam, breaking on high,
Herald the imminent hour.

Out where the drab sky is one with the sea,
Where the storm-fringe caresses the deep,
Spray-swathed harbingers wing to the lee,
And turbulent billows sweep.

Loud, iterant rumblings out of the sky,
Heavy black pall, rent by jagg’d fiery whops, –
Down pours a torrent of fruitful pearls,
Slaking Earth’s avid lips.

Low distant mutterings out of the sky,
Vault of bright azure, no longer o’ercast,
White-crested wavelets fawning the sands
Whisper of storms now past.

Out where blends sapphire with ultramarine,
Where the sky and sea are one,
Silver-sheen’d seagulls exultantly soar,
And tell what the storm has done.