When holy lightning breaks from high
1
Skin-sizzling skull-smack blinds your eye;
Your brain and ears are wreck'd.
Deaf to the thunder when it rolls,
5
You shut down mute, crisp-charr'd,
And pay for months its painful tolls,—
But if you flew the kite with key
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Lief to that torture glean,
A healing rain from He or She
Might close your lesions clean.