The Hurricane
Hart Crane
1899 to 1932
Lo, Lord, Thou ridest!
Lord, Lord, Thy swifting heart
Naught stayeth, naught now bideth
But's smithereened apart!
Ay! Scripture flee'th stone!
Milk-bright, Thy chisel wind
Rescindeth flesh from bone
To quivering whittlings thinned—
Swept—whistling straw! Battered,
Lord, e'en boulders now out-leap
Rock sockets, levin-lathered!
Nor, Lord, may worm out-creep
Thy drum's gambade, its plunge abscond!
Lord God, while summits crashing
Whip sea-kelp screaming on blond
Sky-seethe, high heaven dashing—
Thou ridest to the door, Lord!
Thou bidest wall nor floor, Lord!
Hart Crane's The Hurricane
I am busy working to bring Hart Crane's "The Hurricane" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you later.
In the meantime, I invite you to explore the poem's themes, structure, and meaning. You can also check out the gallery for other musical arrangements or learn more about Hart Crane's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "The Hurricane" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.
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