THE PADDOCK
A waited-for load to carry!
To, fro, traffic and tow!
My brother faltereth—I must flow:
My brother reapeth—and I must sow:
I am summon’d, and I must go.
The Leaves may linger, the Grass must have roots to grow—
But the Wind stay? Ah, no, no!
Mutable, mobile, made to change,
Charter’d to travel, required to range,
Lawless, limitless, unrefrain’d,
Yet bidden, ridden, bridled and rein’d
(And the Law is light, but it sitteth tight!),
The wild Wind, the wayfarer Wind,
The messenger, missioner, minister Wind,
The Wind must wander and go!
Long ago, long ago,
When the vagabond Sun on the vagrant Earth
Lovingly look’d, and I had birth,
Taught to follow the feet of the Sun,
Train’d at my mother’s side to run,
Wings was I given, to flicker and fly
Through the fleeting world, and the fugitive sky.
But Aha! those volatile wings I found
Fasten’d to Flying, to Fleeting bound,
A Rule, a Root, to my flying foot,
A ring to my restless round.—
Out thro’ Space was I whipt and whirl’d,
Back apace was I swept and swirl’d,
Hither and thither hurtled and hurl’d—
By the blow and blast of the breathing World,
By the send and suck of the seething World,
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