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Dinah Maria Mulock - The Wind At Night
Work rating: Low

O SUDDEN blast, that through this silence black 
Sweeps past my windows, 
Coming and going with invisible track 
As death or sin does,-- 

Why scare me, lying sick, and, save thy own, 
Hearing no voices? 
Why mingle with a helpless human moan 
Thy mad rejoices? 

Why not come gently, as good angels come 
To souls departing, 
Floating among the shadows of the room 
With eyes light-darting, 

Bringing faint airs of balm that seem to rouse 
Thoughts of a Far Land, 
Then binding softly upon weary brows 
Death`s poppy-garland? 

O fearful blast, I shudder at thy sound, 
Like heathen mortal 
Who saw the Three that mark life`s doomèd bound 
Sit at his portal. 

Thou mightst be laden with sad, shrieking souls, 
Carried unwilling 
From their known earth to the unknown stream that rolls 
All anguish stilling. 

Fierce wind, will the Death-angel come like thee, 
Soon, soon to bear me 
--Whither? what mysteries may unfold to me, 
What terrors scare me? 

Shall I go wand`ring on through empty space 
As on earth, lonely? 
Or seek through myriad spirit-ranks one face, 
And miss that only? 
Shall I not then drop down from sphere to sphere 
Palsied and aimless? 
Or will my being change so that both fear 
And grief die nameless? 

Rather I pray Him who Himself is Love, 
Out of whose essence 
We all do spring, and towards him tending, move 
Back to His presence, 

That even His brightness may not quite efface 
The soul`s earth-features, 
That the dear human likeness each may trace 
Glorified creatures; 

That we may not cease loving, only taught 
Holier desiring; 
More faith, more patience; with more wisdom fraught, 
Higher aspiring. 

That we may do all work we left undone 
Here--though unmeetness; 
From height to height celestial passing on 
Towards full completeness. 

Then, strong Azrael, be thy supreme call 
Soft as spring-breezes, 
Or like this blast, whose loud fiend-festival 
My heart`s blood freezes. 

I will not fear thee. If thou safely keep 
My soul, God`s giving, 
And my soul`s soul, I, wakening from death-sleep, 
Shall first know living.
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