I wonder why the wind, even the wind doth seem To mock me now, all night, all night, and Have I strayed among the cliffs Martha say, some day I'll fall Down through the sea-bit fissures, and no foreknow the warm cloak of sun, or bathe The dew across my tired eyes to comfort them. They try to keep me hid within four walls. I will not stay!

Personæ: The Shorter Poems