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 field.