Saturday, February 8, 2020

The Mad Wind's Night Work

 Come see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.


  1. I hope this isn't Maine. That is some snow. We had 29° here this a.m. with light frost. But 68° now. Was 82°the other day.

    1. Yes it's Maine! I took those this morning...we just had the worst storm we've had yet this winter with about 20 inches of snow and high winds. 68 degrees sounds so nice!! :)

  2. Wow, that is some wind sculpture. Bet that cold rips right through a body. Stay warm, Joanna!

  3. Stunning!! <3 I'm torn between wanting to see it in person and being glad I'm not...

    1. It is very beautiful, but I'm a little torn myself between loving it and wishing I were in a warmer clime. ;)