Again I reply to the triple winds <br />running chromatic fifths of derision <br />outside my window: <br />Play louder. <br />You will not succeed. I am <br />bound more to my sentences <br />the more you batter at me <br />to follow you. <br />And the wind, <br />as before, fingers perfectly <br />its derisive music.<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/january/
