Equinoctial

Wind of the wasteful equinox, --
          Below the waning Harvest Moon
Chasing the withered leaves in flocks, 
          And moaning to the dim-eyed moon, --
What vexes thee? 0 fitful gale!
          Now shrieking in unbounded rage,
Now fainting to an infant's wail, 
          Or the long sigh of weary age?

Hath some disordered human soul
          Possessed thee, giant strong and blind?
Some rebel will that scorns control, 
          Yet sinks despairing if it find
A strength beyond its own, a calm
          Persistence that outwearies wrath?
Ah! wailing spirits, seek your balm
          In realms beyond the cyclone's path!

O stormy soul! O stormy blast!
          Forgetful of the summer's gifts
The golden bounty of the past
          Whose sweetness still around ye drifts, -
We dash against the adamant
          Of God's law, vainly, as by night
Plunges the dazzled cormorant
          Against the Beacon's guarded light!

Ah, weary winds ye need not sigh
          Over brown mead and leafless bough;
For field and wood, though death seem nigh,
          Had never more of life than now!
‘Tis gathered deep in Nature's heart
          That palpitates with coming Junes.
Ye wail, and singing birds depart,
          But she fore-hears their vernal tunes.

In Equinox and Solstice beats
          That mighty heart, -- its ebb and flow- --
June's long bright day, commingling meets
          December's least, in Autumn's glow.
Heaven holds in golden equipoise
          Its starry balance, joy and grief,
The song and wail, the calm and noise,
          The budding and the falling leaf.

O weary souls! that mix your moans
          With fitful winds, --as little wise
To catch amid their undertones
          The foretold music of the skies, --
Brood, like the trees, the future's bud,
          Guard, like the bird, the new-May song,
And feel through all your changing blood
          Life's grand renewal throbbing strong!