Winds.
291
Upon light footsteps, pluck the robe that shrines
A form beloved, lift the bright floating hair,
Touch brow and lip and cheek with love's full freedom,
Fearless and unreproved.
But, oh, to fly
Bound to the flanks of such a desert steed,
Its wolf pack howling after! Desolate nights,
To be the restless thing that moaning pleads
Under the windows, tampers with the locks,
Breathes hard along the door-sill, like a hound
That's shut out from his master, weeps, entreats,
Shrieks, curses. By the fireside or the board,
They would not know thy voice. Laughter and jests
And sweet songs, faintly would come out to thee
For answer. While the star-like tapers glanced
From stair to stair, then stationary, limned
Light flitting shapes upon the curtains drawn
In the familiar chambers, then went out
One by one, sudden, thou, lamenting still,
Wouldst linger near, but when the last bright point
Dropped into gloom, as one who crowds despair
Close, like a robe, to his complaining lips,
A form beloved, lift the bright floating hair,
Touch brow and lip and cheek with love's full freedom,
Fearless and unreproved.
But, oh, to fly
Bound to the flanks of such a desert steed,
Its wolf pack howling after! Desolate nights,
To be the restless thing that moaning pleads
Under the windows, tampers with the locks,
Breathes hard along the door-sill, like a hound
That's shut out from his master, weeps, entreats,
Shrieks, curses. By the fireside or the board,
They would not know thy voice. Laughter and jests
And sweet songs, faintly would come out to thee
For answer. While the star-like tapers glanced
From stair to stair, then stationary, limned
Light flitting shapes upon the curtains drawn
In the familiar chambers, then went out
One by one, sudden, thou, lamenting still,
Wouldst linger near, but when the last bright point
Dropped into gloom, as one who crowds despair
Close, like a robe, to his complaining lips,
