The Wind

The Wind Of all the sounds despatched abroad, There's not a charge to me Like that old measure in the boughs, That phraseless melody The wind does, working like a hand Whose fingers brush the sky, Then quiver down, with tufts of tune Permitted gods and me. When winds go round and round in bands, And thrum upon the door, And birds take places overhead, To bear them orchestra, I crave him grace, of summer boughs, If such an outcast be, He never heard that fleshless chant Rise solemn in the tree, As if some caravan of sound On deserts, in the sky, Had broken rank, Then knit, and passed In seamless company.

-Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson's poems often have many different meanings to them. I believe that this poem is showing Emily's love for the wind. She sees the wind as being very in charge of itself. The wind encompasses everything that is in nature. No matter what thing you are looking at in nature, it is alomst always surrounded by the wind and sky. The birds, trees, and all noises in nature come from and in the wind. I think that this poem shows this because it shows the importance of wind in all of nature.