The farthest Thunder that I heard Was nearer than the Sky And rumbles still, though torrid Noons Have lain their missiles by— The Lightning that preceded it Struck no one but myself— But I would not exchange the Bolt For all the rest of Life— Indebtedness to Oxygen The Happy may repay, But not the obligation To Electricity— It founds the Homes and decks the Days And every clamor bright Is but the gleam concomitant Of that waylaying Light— The Thought is quiet as a Flake— A Crash without a Sound, How Life’s reverberation Its Explanation found—
