THE WlND'S VISIT.
The wind tapped like a tired man, And like a host, "Come in,"I boldly answered; entered then My residence within A rapid, footless guest, To offer whom a chair Were as impossible as hand A sofa to the air.
No bone had he to bind him, His speech was like the push Of numerous humming-birds at once From a superior bush.
His countenance a billow, His fingers, if he pass, Let go a music, as of tunes Blown tremulous in glass.
He visited, still flitting;
Then, like a timid man, Again he tapped -- 't was flurriedly --And I became alone.
