Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Especially when the October wind
With frosty fingers punishes my hair,
Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire
And cast a shadow crab upon the land,
I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
With no companion to my mood,
Against the wind as it should be
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
No one can tell me,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.
The wind whistles eerily, as the storm approaches,
it gradually encroaches, taking over
like some unscrupulous military machine,
giving way to no one,