Night Wind of Barbados
Beyond the surf and the reef,
Beyond the gloom and the gleam,
Beyond the purple veils
Where lost sailors dream,
The Wind of the Night awakes
In fenceless pastures of din;
Seizing their manes of foam,
She gallops her horses in.
White is her face and fair;
Her hands are like palest shells;
She sleeps where sea-fire burns
And mermaids weave their spells.
All day she drifts and dreams,
With a cheek in an idle hand,—
But as soon as the stars flame out,
She gallops the waves to land.
Mad, at the urge of her hand
They plunge and rear at the bit:
Arching their foaming necks
And tossing their manes a-lit
They hurdle the frothy reef;
To the cruel lash of her hand,
They stagger the marshalled rocks
And trample the flinching sand.
All night long, till dawn,
The furious herds race in.
Back in the fields of cane
The salty spray drifts thin.
She charges the sloshing reef,
And black rocks heave and dip.
Under the eaves of our house
Resounds the lash of her whip.
Along the hills in the east
A yellow flame upwaves;
Behind the crested palms
A tide of saffron laves;
Then, in rose and gold,
The glad lights flare and flee,
And the Night Wind herds her horses
To the pastures of the sea.
