TO THE WIND
Reading edition
The lights hung out in the milky way The star belt glittered and wheeled, The heights and the depths of the night were full Of the scent of the new-ploughed field. Wonderful Elder Brother, the Wind, Why do you rattle the window sill, And drum on the pane with your finger tips, And pipe in the chimney shrill? And why do you harass the poplar tops, And the pollard willow, his leaves, And why do you winnow with ceaseless wings The crest of the gabled eaves? From the chin of the moon to the turnpike road (A ribbon and girdle of white) Is room and enough for the wind to blow, With never a cloud in sight!
