Emily Dickinson Wind Poems

719

A South Wind—has a pathos
Of individual Voice—
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There cam a Wind like a Bugle -
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat
So ominous did pass
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The wind tapped like a tired man,
And like a host, 'Come in,'
I boldly answered; entered then
My residence within
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The wind begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,--
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.
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824

[first version]
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316

The Wind didn't come from the Orchard—today—
Further than that—
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How slow the Wind -
how slow the sea -
how late their Fathers be!
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The Wind took up the Northern Things
And piled them in the south -
Then gave the East unto the West
And opening his mouth
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The spry Arms of the Wind
If I could crawl between
I have an errand imminent
To an adjoining Zone -
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A Wind that rose
Though not a Leaf
In any Forest stirred
But with itself did cold engage
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I saw the wind within her
I knew it blew for me —
But she must buy my shelter
I asked Humility
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I bet with every Wind that blew
Till Nature in chagrin
Employed a Fact to visit me
And scuttle my Balloon -
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How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights -
When people have put out the Lights
And everything that has an Inn
Closes the shutter and goes in -
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