Iii

I have heard the wind on a night of fall, When a devil’s-dance was the rain’s downpour, And the wild woods reeled to its demon call, And the carpet fluttered the floor: I have heard the wind on a night of fall, Heaping the leaves by the garden wall, Weep at my close-shut door: And its voice, so it seemed, as it sorrowed there, Was the old, old voice of the world’s despair.