Your Awful Voice

Your awful voice I hear and I obey,
Brother to Jove and monarch of the sea.
Come down, my blusterers, swell no more,
Your stormy rage give o'er.

To your prisons below,
Down you must go.
In hollow rocks your revels make,
Nor 'till I call your trembling dens forsake.

Thomas Shadwell The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.