And bind me with my chain.

Nay, wind, I hear you, desperate brother, in your might

Whistle and howl; I shall not tarry long,

And though the day be blind and fierce, the night

Be dense and wild, I still am glad and strong

To meet you face to face; through all your gust and drifting

With brow held high, my joyous hands uplifting,

I cry you song for song.

MIDNIGHT.

From where I sit, I see the stars,

And down the chilly floor

The moon between the frozen bars

Is glimmering dim and hoar.

[Pg 38]

Without in many a peakèd mound

The glinting snowdrifts lie;

There is no voice or living sound;

The embers slowly die.

Yet some wild thing is in mine ear;

I hold my breath and hark;

 Prev. P 53/184 next