Sunset and Storm, by Madison Cawein

  Deep with divine tautology,
  The sunset's mighty mystery
  Again has traced the scroll-like west
  With hieroglyphs of burning gold:
  Forever new, forever old,
  Its miracle is manifest.

  Time lays the scroll away. And now
  Above the hills a giant brow
  Of cloud Night lifts; and from his arm,
  Barbaric black, upon the world,
  With thunder, wind and fire, is hurled
  His awful argument of storm.

  What part, O man, is yours in such?
  Whose awe and wonder are in touch
  With Nature,—speaking rapture to
  Your soul,—yet leaving in your reach
  No human word of thought or speech
  Commensurate with the thing you view.