Swamp Angel

Lighting far the pale fright of the faces,
And downward the coming is seen;
Then the rush, and the burst, and the havoc,
And wails and shrieks between.
It comes like the thief in the gloaming;
It comes, and none may foretell
The place of the coming—the glaring;
They live in a sleepless spell
That wizens, and withers, and whitens;
It ages the young, and the bloom
Of the maiden is ashes of roses—
The Swamp Angel broods in his gloom.

-Herman Melville, excerpted from the poem The Swamp Angel

16.03.12-034

“Swamp Angel”, Fujifilm X-T1, ISO 200, f/11 at 1/30th sec., 116.1 mm

=^..^=
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earl harris photography
Photographing people, places, pets and ponderings
throughout Central Florida.

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