The weather had improved somewhat. It was still very windy, with more gales forecast, but the lightning strikes had stopped, the sea was much calmer, and just at the moment there was no hail or sleet falling from the sky. For the first time in a week Algy felt that it would be possible to indulge in a wee bit of reading. So he tucked himself down under the tall Marram grass on the dunes, with the wind whistling over his head, and studied his book Poems of the Sea. This is what he read:

          ’Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail
          Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale:
          From the stark night of vapours the dim rain is driven,
          And when lightning is loosed, like a deluge from Heaven,
          She sees the black trunks of the waterspouts spin
          And bend, as if Heaven was running in,
          Which they seemed to sustain with their terrible mass
          As if ocean had sunk from beneath them: they pass
          To their graves in the deep with an earthquake of sound,
          And the waves and the thunders, made silent around,
          Leave the wind to its echo.

Algy believes that the “weather bomb” storm has now moved on to threaten other parts of northern Europe, so if the tempest is raging over your head today, Algy hopes that you will be able to find a cosy, sheltered spot where you can stay safe and warm… and maybe indulge in a wee bit of reading :-))

[Algy is reading the opening lines of the poem A Vision of The Sea by the early 19th century English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley.]


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