MOAN, ye wild winds! around the pane, And fall, thou drear December rain! Fill with your gusts the sullen day, Tear the last clinging leaves away! Reckless as yonder naked tree, No blast of yours can trouble me. Give me your chill and stern embrace, And pour your baptism on my face Sound in mine ears the airy moan That sweeps in desolate monotone, Where on the unsheltered hill-top beat The marches of your homeless feet. Moan on, ye winds! and pour, thou rain! Your stormy sobs and tears are vain, If shed for her whose fading eyes Will open soon on Paradise: The eye of Heaven shall blinded be, Or ere ye cease, if shed for me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST A BALLAD OF THE FRENCH FLEET; OCTOBER, 1746 by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: 8. WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY by JOHN MILTON ROLL-CALL by NATHANIEL GRAHAM SHEPHERD A FRESHET by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON by ROBERT BROWNING THE CURSE by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH TO A FRIEND, TOGETHER WITH AN UNFINISHED POEM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |