the wind.
31
Sounding far off, and then a soughing wail,
A roar, a shriek, to pierce the ears of night;
So on and on, through all the livelong night,
And all the livelong night I tossed about;
His stormy voice, it would not let me rest,
But woke an echo in me, rolling on
Over my boundless waste of soul, till all
The weary longings and the phantoms wild,
The cravings with their thirst unquenchable,
The doubts—dark looming in the nether mists,
Rose up in tumult, shrieking with one voice:
"Is there no goal? shall we for aye and aye
Be hurried restlessly through endless space?
Oh has the storm no nest? the soul no home?
And the foundation stone of all my being
Shook, and a flood, brackish with tears unshed,
Surged o'er and o'er me.—Tortured I arose,
Went to the open casement, and looked out.—
There was a lull.—Upon the gravelled walks
And smooth-cut sward, patches of moonlight lay;
A roar, a shriek, to pierce the ears of night;
So on and on, through all the livelong night,
And all the livelong night I tossed about;
His stormy voice, it would not let me rest,
But woke an echo in me, rolling on
Over my boundless waste of soul, till all
The weary longings and the phantoms wild,
The cravings with their thirst unquenchable,
The doubts—dark looming in the nether mists,
Rose up in tumult, shrieking with one voice:
"Is there no goal? shall we for aye and aye
Be hurried restlessly through endless space?
Oh has the storm no nest? the soul no home?
And the foundation stone of all my being
Shook, and a flood, brackish with tears unshed,
Surged o'er and o'er me.—Tortured I arose,
Went to the open casement, and looked out.—
There was a lull.—Upon the gravelled walks
And smooth-cut sward, patches of moonlight lay;
