Poems (Browning)/The Spirit of the Wind
The Spirit of the Wind
What is the wind, the untamed wind That wildly sounds its shrilling call?It roams the hills with stealthy feet, Or, maddened to a frenzied fear and dizzy anger,Fierce and cruel, it rushes headlong to the sun; But long before the heights attainedThe conquered host sinks back on earth; Unconquered there, a kingdom bondHolds the wind to land and sea; What ecstasy is in its flight,What nameless soul, what wild delight, Could we but mount its fleeting arms,And ride the sea and sky and all.