MOODS.
Reading edition
To give my aching spirit ease Yestreen I wandered out alone; The mourner wind among the trees Made its reiterant moan. I hailed him. “Brother mine,” I said, “Near kinsman in distress and dole, Thou art, in all thy drearihood, The echo of my soul.” Then sudden from the boughs broke forth Mad mirth as though from pipes at play; Meseemed that East and West and North Were out for holiday. And laughter bubbled up behind My dolefulness and over-ran; As shifting as the freaksome wind The many moods of man! Clinton Scollard.
