Words for the Wind by Thomas Sturge Moore

With the waves for hounds,
With the clouds for hawks,
I hunt the fragile ships
And scour the dry-land’s dips;
And my hale voice sounds
When a cavern talks.—
Quick, children, hold your petticoats down,
Or with heads in -their folds you will sail through the town.

When I lie on the earth
For leagues flowers shake
With joy; I sit up, and trees
Pulse as my heart decrees;
And new heavens have birth
When I sleep on a lake.—
Quick, children, hold your petticoats down,
Or with heads in their folds you will sail through the town.

From: Moore, T. Sturge, The Sea is Kind, 1914, Grant Richards: London, p. 48.
(https://archive.org/details/seaiskind00mooriala/)

Date: 1914

By: Thomas Sturge Moore (1870-1944)