Explore "At Night" by Amy Lowell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The wind is singing through the trees to-night, / A deep-voiced song of rushing cadences / And crashing intervals. No summer breeze / Is this, though hot July is at its height, / Gone is her gentler music; with delight / She listens to this booming like the seas, / These elemental, loud necessities / Which call to her to answer their swift might.
Above the tossing trees shines down a star, / Quietly bright; this wild, tumultuous joy / Quickens nor dims its splendour. And my mind, / O Star! is filled with your white light, from far, / So suffer me this one night to enjoy / The freedom of the onward sweeping wind.