Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AT PLAY, by ANONYMOUS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AT PLAY, by                    
First Line: There's a rogue at play in my sunlit room
Last Line: For west wind is his name
Subject(s): Wind


THERE'S a rogue at play in my sunlit room,
And scarcely he rests from fun;
Floor, window, shelf, or closet's gloom
All are to him as one.

He opens the books and peeps within,
The paper turns inside out,
Snatches my thread, and thinks no sin
To throw my work about.

He clutches the curtains and whisks them down,
Then pulls at the picture cords,
Tosses my hair in the way of his own,
Nor heeds my coaxing words.

I wonder if one so glad and young
Will ever be prim and old?
He answers not, for he has no tongue—
Yet tells sweet tales as are told.

He climbs the walls, yet has no feet;
No wings, but flies the same;
No hands, no head, but breath so sweet—
For West Wind is his name.





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