The Human Inheritance | ||
VI. THE WINDMILL.
(Gathering storm.)
Four huge black arms against the sky—
Still now, and waiting for the wind;
No clouds in the blue night behind,
But faint far storm-mists trailed on high,
And in the east a shadow black
With fringes split like wild sea-wrack:
Still now, and waiting for the wind;
No clouds in the blue night behind,
But faint far storm-mists trailed on high,
And in the east a shadow black
With fringes split like wild sea-wrack:
It moans, and surely moves at last
In travail with the rising blast.
In travail with the rising blast.
The Human Inheritance | ||