Body's Song

I listen to an inner song of wind,
Whose wanton rhythmic hands so firmly beat
A delicate tattoo against the mind
And make a rustling song through darkening wheat--
And send my body's song, a gush of sings,
Against the wind and toward the bend of stars,
And listening while the nearby river cries,
I hear it fall high up from hidden bars;
And you, who are my partner in the night,
Know this my struggle in the want of you;
You see me hide my trembling hands from sight,
And catch my breath as those who choking do--
Why not? -- The song is fallen from the height,
And you have shut the airless room of night.