Stand and beat back your fierce and tyrannous spells,

And hour by hour send out, like voices torn and broken

Of battling giants that have grandly spoken,

The veering sound of bells;

So day and night, oh wind, with hiss and moan you fleet,

Where once long gone on many a green-leafed day

Your gentler brethren wandered with light feet

And sang with voices soft and sweet as they,

[Pg 36]

The same blind thought that you with wilder might are speaking,

Seeking the same strange thing that you are seeking

In this your stormier way.

Oh wind, wild-voicèd brother, in your northern cave,

My spirit also being so beset

With pride and pain, I heard you beat and rave,

Grinding your chains with furious howl and fret,

Knowing full well that all earth's moving things inherit

The same chained might and madness of the spirit,

That none may quite forget.

You in your cave of snows, we in our narrow girth

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