To the window sill that lays out the street,
And gentle raindrops that expand the night
And dust of skin where at the corners creep
And four happy children that play outside:
More nighttime autos that bustle the floor
Under quiet stars below lantern heat:
And waning lamps that dim the houses door
And the sullen clouds that eventual sleep:
With calling mothers for their children young
And teenage men play their music and ride
With grandfathers old and lonely in sleep
And frightened boys that in their bedtime cry.
Then a poet that on his third floor sees
The entire world from his window keep.

More puddle steps that everyday
Fall back again with water rain
More tiny drops of water blow
And concrete grasses wet the stone:
More morning hue that fills the trees
And vapid air that sets the breeze:
In spring, and yet with winters loud,
The shoddy days the world bestows:
Of quick sunshine in leaving days,
Sour grass set in mellow rays;
A cousin-friend to seasons like:
The April springs of Toronto life.

Loud Wind! Loud Wind! Why do you fie?
What troubles thou in 'neath night's sun?
What anger breeds that cause reply
Of trash bag bins and branches flung?
What son'rous winds that may her cry
Leaf-tears hung by moon-tide wind?

Sylvan weeps has Hephaestus yield;
Evil tunes of nature's dial:
Loudest Wind, what bellows you wield?
When stolen from the fire child?
Loud Wind, what sonnets will thy seal?
With mountain breaths of winter deep?

And other houses shall delight
Unpleasant shakings of their rooms:
Perhaps, Loud Wind, this waning night
May ever proud your selfish booms;
Fie! Wake all men that lay tonight!
Loud Wind, Loud Wind, fie this night moon!

Was it not yesterday when we fell in love?
Was it not that night in summer just me and you?
Oh dear, have I reclaim'd my lost lover-bug?
Another poem for my dear sweet you:
Miss Lover Lady, where travels you now?
And what woman or man have you embold'?
And brown hair, so beautifully brown,
A brown that seeps into parts of my soul:
Ah, everything! Everything that is there
In the world will match not up with your eyes:
And Lady, when great universes stare
They too would get lost where the green flares lie.
But gone Lady is, by morrows of time;
And falls lover's truth withal lover's rhyme.