Classic Poem

Windily veer the vanes on many a turret,
For the wild West has suddenly upstarted,
And, like a cat a mouse, appears to worrit
The deep delicious woodlands happy-hearted:
Each great oak grumbles as the swift soughs stir it.
But I begin to feel my grief departed,
And take the tossing tumult of the season
To freshen me, like the strange bath of Aeson.