Get up and bar the door and pour
        Another pint of brew--
For we misread the semaphore
        That know not what we do,
And how the wind must howl before
        The night of storm is through.

The gale arise and fierce the blast
        Against the ramparts crash,
Whilst children, in their nightmares cast
        For comfort, under lash
Of heaven’s timorous sounding vast
        As midnight teeth they gnash.

Then, read your Bible stories ere
        You go to sleep, young souls,
Because the Lord may hear each prayer
        Though tattering life to holes--
Yet still, it be, “the Lord is there,”
        And He that is, consoles.