BIRTHDAY ODE.
103
Hark, on the hill-wind, clear
For all men's hearts to hear 90
Sound like a stream at nightfall from the steep
That all time's depths might answer, deep to deep,
With trumpet-measures of triumphal wail
From windy vale to vale,
The crying of one for love that strayed and sinned
Whose brain took madness of the mountain wind.
Between the birds of brighter and duskier wing, ant. 3
What mightier-moulded forms
Girt with red clouds and storms
Mix their strong hearts with theirs that soar and sing? 100
Before the storm-blast blown of death's dark horn
The marriage moonlight withers, that the morn
