The night was full of wind that ran
Like a strong blind distracted man
About the fields in the loud rain;
The night was full of the wind’s pain.
I looked into the naked air,
Only the crying wind was there,
In wet invisible torment, tossed
About the darkness like a ghost.
My thought in me cried out and sought
Only, like wind, to fly from thought;
But like my thought the wind could find
Nowhere to hide out of the wind.
(Arthur Symons)
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