Minutes before the campus was in a roar,
As if the stormy sky possessed a will,
As if the hands of the storm were intent
On leaving the old trees bent
Down to the ground, and whipping saplings
Out of the earth and tossing them
To the sky. Now fallen branches lie
Almost neatly on the campus walk.
Wind and water have done their best,
To overthrow the rule of hedges and trees,
They’ve gone and the campus is at rest,
Barely brushed by a rainy breeze.
Now that the storm has fled to Jersey
Chaos and rocking nature yield
To the green symmetry of life;
What Ruth found in her barley …
Something to Consider
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