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George Meredith - South-West Wind In The Woodland
Work rating: Low

The silence of preluded song - 
AEolian silence charms the woods; 
Each tree a harp, whose foliaged strings 
Are waiting for the master`s touch 
To sweep them into storms of joy, 
Stands mute and whispers not; the birds 
Brood dumb in their foreboding nests, 
Save here and there a chirp or tweet, 
That utters fear or anxious love, 
Or when the ouzel sends a swift 
Half warble, shrinking back again 
His golden bill, or when aloud 
The storm-cock warns the dusking hills 
And villages and valleys round: 
For lo, beneath those ragged clouds 
That skirt the opening west, a stream 
Of yellow light and windy flame 
Spreads lengthening southward, and the sky 
Begins to gloom, and o`er the ground 
A moan of coming blasts creeps low 
And rustles in the crisping grass; 
Till suddenly with mighty arms 
Outspread, that reach the horizon round, 
The great South-West drives o`er the earth, 
And loosens all his roaring robes 
Behind him, over heath and moor. 
He comes upon the neck of night, 
Like one that leaps a fiery steed 
Whose keen black haunches quivering shine 
With eagerness and haste, that needs 
No spur to make the dark leagues fly! 
Whose eyes are meteors of speed; 
Whose mane is as a flashing foam; 
Whose hoofs are travelling thunder-shocks; - 
He comes, and while his growing gusts, 
Wild couriers of his reckless course, 
Are whistling from the daggered gorse, 
And hurrying over fern and broom, 
Midway, far off, he feigns to halt 
And gather in his streaming train. 

Now, whirring like an eagle`s wing 
Preparing for a wide blue flight; 
Now, flapping like a sail that tacks 
And chides the wet bewildered mast; 
Now, screaming like an anguish`d thing 
Chased close by some down-breathing beak; 
Now, wailing like a breaking heart, 
That will not wholly break, but hopes 
With hope that knows itself in vain; 
Now, threatening like a storm-charged cloud; 
Now, cooing like a woodland dove; 
Now, up again in roar and wrath 
High soaring and wide sweeping; now, 
With sudden fury dashing down 
Full-force on the awaiting woods. 

Long waited there, for aspens frail 
That tinkle with a silver bell, 
To warn the Zephyr of their love, 
When danger is at hand, and wake 
The neighbouring boughs, surrendering all 
Their prophet harmony of leaves, 
Had caught his earliest windward thought, 
And told it trembling; naked birk 
Down showering her dishevelled hair, 
And like a beauty yielding up 
Her fate to all the elements, 
Had swayed in answer; hazels close, 
Thick brambles and dark brushwood tufts, 
And briared brakes that line the dells 
With shaggy beetling brows, had sung 
Shrill music, while the tattered flaws 
Tore over them, and now the whole 
Tumultuous concords, seized at once 
With savage inspiration,—pine, 
And larch, and beech, and fir, and thorn, 
And ash, and oak, and oakling, rave 
And shriek, and shout, and whirl, and toss, 
And stretch their arms, and split, and crack, 
And bend their stems, and bow their heads, 
And grind, and groan, and lion-like 
Roar to the echo-peopled hills 
And ravenous wilds, and crake-like cry 
With harsh delight, and cave-like call 
With hollow mouth, and harp-like thrill 
With mighty melodies, sublime, 
From clumps of column`d pines that wave 
A lofty anthem to the sky, 
Fit music for a prophet`s soul - 
And like an ocean gathering power, 
And murmuring deep, while down below 
Reigns calm profound;—not trembling now 
The aspens, but like freshening waves 
That fall upon a shingly beach; - 
And round the oak a solemn roll 
Of organ harmony ascends, 
And in the upper foliage sounds 

A symphony of distant seas. 
The voice of nature is abroad 
This night; she fills the air with balm; 
Her mystery is o`er the land; 
And who that hears her now and yields 
His being to her yearning tones, 
And seats his soul upon her wings, 
And broadens o`er the wind-swept world 
With her, will gather in the flight 
More knowledge of her secret, more 
Delight in her beneficence, 
Than hours of musing, or the lore 
That lives with men could ever give! 
Nor will it pass away when morn 
Shall look upon the lulling leaves, 
And woodland sunshine, Eden-sweet, 
Dreams o`er the paths of peaceful shade; - 
For every elemental power 
Is kindred to our hearts, and once 
Acknowledged, wedded, once embraced, 
Once taken to the unfettered sense, 
Once claspt into the naked life, 
The union is eternal.
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