Thoughts , the thick breath of rank and stagnant years,
And memories steaming from the sloughs of time —
Oh, how the misty squadrons crawl and climb!
And one aloft a wavering shadow rears,
And one air-born, a sudden shape appears,
And one by inches spreads a level pall,
While dimly through the gloom sad voices call,
And ghostly echoes murmur in my ears.

I know a wind that blows from pleasant places,
A knightly wanderer from a bright domain,
Who slays the mist with purity and chases
The felon vapours to their dens again;
Come wind, come gentle wind, come soon, I pray
Come, friend, and blow the noisome swarm away.