 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
SONNET XXIV. THE WIND'S MESSAGE.
I said: “What wouldst thou with my soul to-night,
O wild March wind that wailest round the land?
Tell'st thou of some new grief even now at hand?
Or dost thou in thy swift and sounding flight
But chant a requiem for a past delight?
Like moan of billows on a distant strand,
Thy message which I fain would understand,
Comes down to me from Heaven's starless height.”
O wild March wind that wailest round the land?
Tell'st thou of some new grief even now at hand?
Or dost thou in thy swift and sounding flight
But chant a requiem for a past delight?
Like moan of billows on a distant strand,
Thy message which I fain would understand,
Comes down to me from Heaven's starless height.”
Then sadder wailed the wind, and sadder yet,
And swept with a great sudden rush of dole
Across me, till I cried: “My lady's soul
Is stirred by Pity, and its currents set
To me-ward, and to me she bids thee say,
‘Those prayed in vain, grieve more than those who pray.’”
And swept with a great sudden rush of dole
Across me, till I cried: “My lady's soul
Is stirred by Pity, and its currents set
To me-ward, and to me she bids thee say,
‘Those prayed in vain, grieve more than those who pray.’”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |