The swallow has set her six young on the rail
And looks sea-ward:
The water’s in stripes like a snake, olive-pale
To the leeward,—
On the weather-side, black, spotted white with the wind
“Good fortune departs, and disaster’s behind,”—
Hark, hark, the wind with its wants and its infinite wail!

And why must cold spread? but wherefore bring change
To the spirit
God meant should mate his with an infinite range
And inherit
His power to put life in the darkness and cold?
Oh, live and love worthily, bear and be bold!
Whom Summer made friends of, let Winter estrange!