The Wind wandered into my room last night
When all the world was still.
He blew my lamp first dim, then bright,
And gave my skin a chill.
He fluttered here and fluttered there,
Wand'ring from wall to wall,
And lifting a paper into the air,
He softly let it fall.
"O Wind," I cried, as he softly swept
My books upon the floor,
"You're upsetting the things I neatly kept
On the shelf there by the door!
You've knocked my vase from Aunt Reneė
Down, into seven pieces,
And broke the frame that used to display
A picture of my nieces!"
The Wind, it seemed then, made a stay—
His reckless rampage paused,
As though he wanted to survey
The damage he had caused.
Then, with a sound that caused me fright,
He swept away, and lo!
The Wind wandered off to blow through the night.
Whereto? I do not know.
T. G. 3/31/20
