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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509119" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Song Of Winds</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WOE to the weak when the sky is shrouded,<br>And the wind of the salt-way sobs as it dies!<br>Woe to the weak! for a great dejection<br>Droops their spirits and drowns their eyes.<br>Woe to the weak who tire of fetters,<br>Of grim life-fetters that gall and bind!<br>For the Sea tells stories of death made lovely,<br>And a siren sings in the nor'-east wind.<br>It wanders the coast like a tombless spectre,<br>And drips dank dew on the drooping leaf;<br>And the soul grows pensive with dim suggestions<br>Of grey old troubles and ancient grief.<br>'Tis grave and low, and with woeful plaining<br>Sighs death-notes under a sky of grey;<br>And who hath an ear may hear the voices<br>Of pale men dead on its streaked sea-way.<br>In fading twilights o'er sullen seascapes,<br>A lost, wan wind 'neath a dead grey sky,<br>It swoons to land like a weary swimmer,<br>Sobs and falters and turns to die.<br>Seeking a tomb in dark coast caverns<br>Where wet rust reddens the fretted stone,<br>The wandering sea-thing sinks to silence,<br>Sinks and dies with a last low moan . . .<br>A last low moan, and deadly stillness . . .<br>Then the sudden crash of a league-long sea,<br>And fresh from his den in the white ice region<br>The Wolf of the South is speeding free;<br>Cleaving the air with his chill grey shoulders,<br>Trampling the sea to foam beneath.<br>The Wolf of the South goes howling nor'ard,<br>A mastless hull in his long white teeth.<br>Black swans on high, a far faint phalanx,<br>Wing their way to a northern clime,<br>Sending feathers of sad sound downward,<br>Mournful notes of an evil time —<br>An evil time, for the black Night chases<br>And darkness swallows the trailing flock;<br>An evil season of wild white weather,<br>And foam and tumult on reef and rock;<br>Of yellow floods on the Northern rivers,<br>And fierce waves swaying from crest to trough,<br>Of creaking schooners wearing seaward,<br>And signals crying — Stand off! Stand off!<br>Of frothy flakes on the wild waste flying,<br>And anxious faces, and fateful news;<br>Of close-reefed topsails, and battened hatches,<br>And straining engines and racing screws;<br>Of pumice-stone and brown weeds riven,<br>Cast up and flung on the hissing sand;<br>Of squadroned waves and their mighty charging,<br>And the stern repulse of the frowning land;<br>Of whipped white faces faring stormward<br>With smothered words and wrecked replies,<br>Of trees blown down on the windy ridges,<br>And stormy shoutings, and tempest cries;<br>Of eyes that dance to the wild wind's music,<br>Of strange sweet thrills through the calm-sick form,<br>Of Storm throned king on the mad white ocean,<br>Of Storm the Monarch — all hail to Storm!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Roderic+Quinn">Roderic Quinn</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509119" data-title="A Song Of Winds de Roderic Quinn" data-description="WOE to the weak when the sky is shrouded,
And the wind of the salt-way sobs as it dies!
Woe to the weak! for a great dejection
Droops their spirits and drowns their eyes.
Woe to the weak who tire of fetters,
Of grim life-fetters that gall and bind..."></div>
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