The Poetry Corner

North Wind. (The Winds)

By William Lisle Bowles

From the vast and desert deeps, Where the lonely Kraken sleeps, Where fixed the icy mountains high Glimmer to the twilight sky; Where, six lingering months to last, The night has closed, the day is past, Father, lo, I come, I come: I have heard the wizard's drum, And the withered Lapland hag, Seal, with muttered spell, her bag: O'er mountains white, and forests sere, I flew, and with a wink am here.