A heavy rainstorm batters a city, and the speaker describes it as a battle. The sky becomes a pack of grey wolves, the rain falls in volleys of arrows, and thunder splits overhead. Trees crash and water clings to people's legs, yet the city carries on. The rain "bounced off harmlessly," and the wet roads seem to flutter their eyelashes, as if the whole assault were innocent or pointless.
The turn comes at the end. Inside, the class is chattering, and the storm is something that almost gets drowned out. Only one student is truly caught by its "vicious beauty," staring out through grills that "would never give way." The poem suggests a feeling of being set apart, watching the world's drama from behind a barrier. The mood is dramatic and wild at first, then quieter and lonelier. The student seems both drawn to the storm and shut away from it, which gives the closing lines a restless, wistful edge.