LET ME GO!

Any wind but this— That with remembrance of rain Grown soft and pitiful, embraced me As I walked homeward. And any other look Than the full-moon sheds to-night— As though she bent like a mother Above her sleeping children. Not to be denied The wind gropes over the house; And now it has brushed aside the curtains And walks about the room. Too well, too well I know Whence you have journeyed, O Wind! And what the landscape of nestling hill and valley That the moon eyes so lovingly.