Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ And drop by drop the anguish of their fears
⁠Comes down around us all the awful night.
They say that in the lightning-flash and roar
⁠Of clashing clouds the tempest is about,
And draw their chairs the glowing hearth before,
⁠The casement close to shut the danger out.
Ah, no! The doors of Paradise, they swing
⁠A moment open for a soul nigh spent,
Then come together till the thunder's ring
⁠Leaves us half blinded by God's element. ”