Nightwind

Darkness like midnight from the sobbing woods

Clamours with dismal tidings of the rain,

Roaring as rivers breaking loose in floods

To spread and foam and deluge all the plain.

The cotter listens at his door again,

Half doubting whether it be floods or wind,

And through the thickening darkness looks afraid,

Thinking of roads that travel has to find

Through night's black depths in danger's garb arrayed.

And the loud glabber round the flaze soon stops

When hushed to silence by the lifted hand

Of fearing dame who hears the noise in dread

And thinks a deluge comes to drown the land;

Nor dares she go to bed until the tempest drops.