D. H. Lawrence
Storm in the Black Forest
Now it is almost night, from the bronzey soft sky
jugfull after jugfull of pure white liquid fire, bright white
tipples over and spills down,
and is gone
and gold-bronze flutters bent through the thick upper air

And as the electric liquid pours out, sometimes
a still brighter white snake wriggles among it, spilled
and tumbling wriggling down the sky:
and then the heavens cackle with unicorn sounds.

And the rain won't come, the rain refuses to come!

This is the electricity that man is supposed to have mastered
chained,subjugated to his use!
supposed to!