Storm in the black forest

Poet Name: DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE

Now it is almost night, from the bronzey soft sky jugful after
jugful of pure white liquid fire, bright white
Tipples over and spills down,

and is gone
and gold-bronze flutters beat 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 uncouth 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 own use!
supposed to !