“… I Will Stamp On The Ground With My Foot And Shake Down Every House …”

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And such heats were begat among metals and stones, That the cave filled with sulphur, and bellowed with groans; And the earth, as if grasped by omnipotent might, Quaked dreadful, and shook with the throes of affright ; Deep northwardly rolled the electrical jar, Creating amazement, destruction, and war; The rivers they boiled like pot over coals, And mortals fell prostrate, and prayed for their souls: Every rock on our borders cracked, quivered, and shrunk, And Nackitosh tumbled, and New Madrid sunk.

The poem sank, like New Madrid, into quiet obscurity.