The Wind Blew Words

Thomas Hardy

The wind blew words along the skies,
   And these it blew to me
Through the wide dusk:  "Lift up your eyes,
   Behold this troubled tree,
Complaining as it sways and plies;
   It is a limb of thee.

"Yea, too, the creatures sheltering round -
   Dumb figures, wild and tame,
Yea, too, thy fellows who abound -
   Either of speech the same
Or far and strange--black, dwarfed, and browned,
   They are stuff of thy own frame."

I moved on in a surging awe
   Of inarticulateness
At the pathetic Me I saw
   In all his huge distress,
Making self-slaughter of the law
   To kill, break, or suppress.

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