 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
I.
Speeding across blank wastes of lonely snow
From your pale palace, reared with wild device
In a wild shadowy land of Arctic ice,
O North-wind, bitter North-wind, whither do you blow?
From your pale palace, reared with wild device
In a wild shadowy land of Arctic ice,
O North-wind, bitter North-wind, whither do you blow?
“Southward to find my tender languid love,
Who drowses in a clime of tropic haze,
Where, through the heavy-odored stagnant nights,
Great mellow fervid stars beam out above,
And where one sees, through sultry golden days,
The mighty Indian temples rear proud heights
And the rich-crested palm her green plume raise!
And I, the spirit strong to wreck and kill,
I, the stern North-wind, terrible to chill,
When her warm kisses through these cold lips thrill,
I have no will that is not her sweet will!”
Who drowses in a clime of tropic haze,
Where, through the heavy-odored stagnant nights,
Great mellow fervid stars beam out above,
And where one sees, through sultry golden days,
The mighty Indian temples rear proud heights
And the rich-crested palm her green plume raise!
8
I, the stern North-wind, terrible to chill,
When her warm kisses through these cold lips thrill,
I have no will that is not her sweet will!”
| Fantasy and Passion | |