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.