Poems (Cromwell)/The Mocking Wind
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THE MOCKING WIND
O wind, you will not break my house;
Though you come to my house in bodily form,
Though you tramp on the doorstep and over the stone,
Though you knock on my roof and my window with storm.
Though you come to my house in bodily form,
Though you tramp on the doorstep and over the stone,
Though you knock on my roof and my window with storm.
O Wind, though you lift your mischievous hand,
Rubbing your smooth palm over my door,
Though your elbows nudge the wall of my room,
Though you hum with contentment over my floor,—
Rubbing your smooth palm over my door,
Though your elbows nudge the wall of my room,
Though you hum with contentment over my floor,—
O Wind, you will not break my house;
Your mirth will not shake the resting beams;
For a slow and a careful Carpenter
Built me my house,—my house of dreams.
Your mirth will not shake the resting beams;
For a slow and a careful Carpenter
Built me my house,—my house of dreams.