I fear the wind— I always did,
Its scudding tides of dread and doubt;
And as a child, wherever I hid,
The wind would always find me out.
I feared the crocodile sob of air,
The shriek of tortured trees outside;
‘The Devil’s abroad in coach and pair,’
My Nan would sniff, ‘no use to hide.’
But I fear the wind, it’s eerie tongue,
The clatter of nameless things in flight—
For I have known, since I was young,
That I shall die on a stormy night.