The Unappeasable Host

    And clap their hands together， and half close their eyes，

    For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies，

    With heavy whitening wings， and a heart fallen cold：

    I kiss my wailing² child and press it to my breast，

    And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me.

    Desolate³ winds that cry over the wandering sea；

    Desolate winds that hover⁴ in the flaming West；

    Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven， and beat

    The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost；

    O heart the winds have shaken， the unappeasable host

    Is comelier⁵ than candles at Mother Mary‘s feet.