Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/118

 Hark, on the hill-wind, clear For all men's hearts to hear 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, What mightier-moulded forms Girt with red clouds and storms Mix their strong hearts with theirs that soar and sing? Before the storm-blast blown of death's dark horn The marriage moonlight withers, that the morn