All the valley fills with wind
As a rock-pool with the tide;
And the tumult, clashed and dinned,
Floods like waters far and wide.
The torn mainsail of the rain,
By the clutching wind strained tight,
Flaps against the window-pane,
Creaking at the mast all night.
Hands of wind are at the doors,
Feet of wind upon the roof;
Wind with dragon voices roars
Blindly, trumpeting aloof.
Mouths of wind at all the cracks
Whistle through the walls; and, hark!
Lashes clang on leaping backs
Of the horses of the dark.
