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Arthur Symons - Wind In The Valley
Work rating: Low

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.
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