Love in the Winds

Richard Hovey (1864–1900)

WHEN I am standing on a mountain crest,

Or hold the tiller in the dashing spray,

My love of you leaps foaming in my breast,

Shouts with the winds and sweeps to their foray;

My heart bounds with the horses of the sea,

And plunges in the wild ride of the night,

Flaunts in the teeth of tempest the large glee

That rides out Fate and welcomes gods to fight.

Ho, love, I laugh aloud for love of you,

Glad that our love is fellow to rough weather,—

No fretful orchid hothoused from the dew,

But hale and hardy as the highland heather,

Rejoicing in the wind that stings and thrills,

Comrade of ocean, playmate of the hills.