The wind blew all my wedding-day, <br />And my wedding-night was the night of the high wind; <br />And a stable door was banging, again and again, <br />That he must go and shut it, leaving me <br />Stupid in candlelight, hearing rain, <br />Seeing my face in the twisted candlestick, <br />Yet seeing nothing. When he came back <br />He said the horses were restless, and I was sad <br />That any man or beast that night should lack <br />The happiness I had. <br /> <br /> Now in the day <br />All's ravelled under the sun by the wind's blowing. <br />He has gone to look at the floods, and I <br />Carry a chipped pail to the chicken-run, <br />Set it down, and stare. All is the wind <br />Hunting through clouds and forests, thrashing <br />My apron and the hanging cloths on the line. <br />Can it be borne, this bodying-forth by wind <br />Of joy my actions turn on, like a thread <br />Carrying beads? Shall I be let to sleep <br />Now this perpetual morning shares my bed? <br />Can even death dry up <br />These new delighted lakes, conclude <br />Our kneeling as cattle by all-generous waters?<br /><br />Philip Larkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wedding-wind/
