Roderic Quinn

(1867 - 1949 / Australia)

A Song Of Winds


WOE to the weak when the sky is shrouded,
And the wind of the salt-way sobs as it dies!
Woe to the weak! for a great dejection
Droops their spirits and drowns their eyes.
Woe to the weak who tire of fetters,
Of grim life-fetters that gall and bind!
For the Sea tells stories of death made lovely,
And a siren sings in the nor'-east wind.
It wanders the coast like a tombless spectre,
And drips dank dew on the drooping leaf;
And the soul grows pensive with dim suggestions
Of grey old troubles and ancient grief.
'Tis grave and low, and with woeful plaining
Sighs death-notes under a sky of grey;
And who hath an ear may hear the voices
Of pale men dead on its streaked sea-way.
In fading twilights o'er sullen seascapes,
A lost, wan wind 'neath a dead grey sky,
It swoons to land like a weary swimmer,
Sobs and falters and turns to die.
Seeking a tomb in dark coast caverns
Where wet rust reddens the fretted stone,
The wandering sea-thing sinks to silence,
Sinks and dies with a last low moan . . .
A last low moan, and deadly stillness . . .
Then the sudden crash of a league-long sea,
And fresh from his den in the white ice region
The Wolf of the South is speeding free;
Cleaving the air with his chill grey shoulders,
Trampling the sea to foam beneath.
The Wolf of the South goes howling nor'ard,
A mastless hull in his long white teeth.
Black swans on high, a far faint phalanx,
Wing their way to a northern clime,
Sending feathers of sad sound downward,
Mournful notes of an evil time —
An evil time, for the black Night chases
And darkness swallows the trailing flock;
An evil season of wild white weather,
And foam and tumult on reef and rock;
Of yellow floods on the Northern rivers,
And fierce waves swaying from crest to trough,
Of creaking schooners wearing seaward,
And signals crying — Stand off! Stand off!
Of frothy flakes on the wild waste flying,
And anxious faces, and fateful news;
Of close-reefed topsails, and battened hatches,
And straining engines and racing screws;
Of pumice-stone and brown weeds riven,
Cast up and flung on the hissing sand;
Of squadroned waves and their mighty charging,
And the stern repulse of the frowning land;
Of whipped white faces faring stormward
With smothered words and wrecked replies,
Of trees blown down on the windy ridges,
And stormy shoutings, and tempest cries;
Of eyes that dance to the wild wind's music,
Of strange sweet thrills through the calm-sick form,
Of Storm throned king on the mad white ocean,
Of Storm the Monarch — all hail to Storm!

Submitted: Friday, April 16, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Song Of Winds by Roderic Quinn )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Lard, Edward Kofi Louis
  2. The Road to Silence, John F. McCullagh
  3. UH-1 Iroquois, Kyle Schlicher
  4. Owl-Moon Night & The Rickshaw-puller, Pradip Chattopadhyay
  5. Sagacious Senryus, Diane Hine
  6. A miner 49er (golden dreams), Monk E. Biz
  7. SATELLITE MOUTHS, alexander opicho
  8. Praying A Relief, Amitava Sur
  9. Infant Morning, Kyle Schlicher
  10. Broken Homes?, Ellirie Aviles

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Walter Scott

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]