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Edith Nesbit - The Island
Work rating: Medium

Does the wind sing in your ears at night, in the town, 
   Rattling the windows and doors of the cheap-built place? 
Do you hear its song as it flies over marsh and down? 
   Do you feel the kiss that the wind leaves here on my face? 
Or, wrapt in a lamplit quiet, do you restrain 
   Thoughts that would take the wind`s way hither to me, 
And bid them rest safe-anchored, nor tempt again 
   The tumult, and torment, and passion that live in the sea? 

I, for my part, when the wind sings loud in its might, 
   I bid it hush—-nor awaken again the storm 
That swept my heart out to sea on a moonless night, 
   And dashed it ashore on an island wondrous and warm 
Where all things fair and forbidden for ever flower, 
   Where the worst of life is a dream, and the best comes true, 
Where the harvest of years was reaped in a single hour 
   And the gods, for once, were honest with me and you. 

I will not hear when the wind and the sea cry out, 
   I will not trust again to the hurrying wind, 
I will not swim again in a sea of doubt, 
   And reach that shore with the world left well behind; 
But you,—-I would have you listen to every call 
   Of the changing wind, as it blows over marsh and main, 
And heap life`s joys in your hands, and offer them all, 
   If only your feet might touch that island again!
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