THE Wind bows down the poplar-trees, The Wind bows down the crested seas; And he has bowed the heart of me Under his hand of memory. O heavy-handed Wind, who goes Hurting the petals of the rose; Who leaves the grasses on the hill Broken and pallid, spent and still! O heavy-handed Wind, who brings To me all echoing ancient things: Echoing sorrow and defeat, Crying like mourners, hard to meet! The Wind bows down the poplar-trees And all the ocean's argosies; But deeper bends the heart of me Under his hand of memory. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIVE BLINDLY; SONNET by TRUMBULL STICKNEY TO THE CUCKOO (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE RECOLLECTION OF THE PEOPLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE DARK VISITOR by ANNE MILLAY BREMER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. SPENDING THE NIGHT ALONE by EDWARD CARPENTER |