Classic Poem

Wild wind of the north, grim poet of the dark,
Weaving your fancies across the night;
I seem to see them, forms gaunt and stark,
And scenes that shun the cheerful light.

Wild wind of the north, through the branches bare
Blow with your might till their groanings sound
Like the voice of a soul shut out from air,
In the cell of some sin unfathomably bound.

Wild wind of the north, under the gray sky
Where never a star-point flickers or gleams,
I stand and laugh and bid you go by
With the noise of your manifold homeless streams.

Wild wind of the north, fierce spirit of storm,
Passion and rage of the heart of things,
Soul of the strength that lusts to deform,
Father of ruin and scatterings,

Shatter the branches and whirl the sleet,
Rock the unstable homes of men,
Uproot tall oaks, and tread under feet
Town and village and denizen.

Wild wind of the north, I fear you naught,
My souls exults in the storm of your might,
My thought flies far with impulsion caught
From your impotent cries hurled down the night.

Wild wind of the north, hold the globe in your grasp,
Furl and unfurl the obedient skies,
But more than the might of your strongest clasp
Is the weakest of babe-souls uttering cries.

Wild wind of the north, I laugh you to scorn,
You sleep in my soul like a child at rest,
I know you and bind you, and bid you adorn
My triumph of visions within my breast.

Wild wind of the north, come rest on my wrist,
My falcon, my bird, my plaything, my sweet,
Fold your strong wings, be still to be kissed,
Hush your loud sadness, hither retreat.

Wild wind of the north, a single star
Conquers the clouds you heaped in hate,
Shines and gladdens, and sends afar
Her challenging light to your empty state.