Explore "Wind" by Frederic Manning on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Blow, wind! Strip the great trees / That are like ebony against a sky of jade, / Ebony fretted and contorted.
Blow, hunt the piled clouds that lash the earth with rain; / Roar among the swayed branches; sing shrilly in the grass, / Burdening the pines with the music of pain; / For mine eyes desire the stars.
Drown the senseless thunder of the guns, / Stream on the ways of air hurrying before thee / The yellow leaves, and the tawny, and scarlet, / Till my soul dance with them, / Dance delightedly as a child or a kitten / Catching at the gay leaves laughingly, / For I would forget, I would forget and laugh again.
Sing, thou great wind; smite the harp of the wood, / For in thee the souls of slain men are singing exultant, / Now free of the air, feather-footed! Yea, they swim therein / Toward the green twilight, surging / Naked and beautiful with playing muscles, / Yea, even the naked souls of men / Whose beauty is a fierce thing, and slayeth us / Like the terrible majesty of the gods; / Blow, thou great wind, scatter the yellowing leaves.