THE LOVER AND THE WIND

“Wind of the South with the wild, wet mouth, Cease from thy wailing and fury of railing; Whisper to me in my vigils of pain That soon I shall meet her, And soon I shall greet her, And thrill with the passion of kisses again. “Wind of the South with the wild, wet mouth, Silence thy raving and hark to my craving; Echo a hope through my vigils of pain. I hunger to hold her, I throb to enfold her And melt in the fire of her body again.” “Suffering man, since thy race began I have been weeping and I have been keeping A myriad vigils of sorrow and pain. No more shalt thou meet her, No more shalt thou greet her, Or thrill with the passion of kisses again. “Suffering man, the arc of thy span To-morrow is bounded and finished and rounded. Thou shalt forget all thy vigils of pain, Nor hunger to hold her, Nor throb to enfold her, Nor cry for the fire of her body again.”