At one the wind rose, br And with it the noise br Of the black poplars. br br Long since had the living br By a thin twine br Been led into their dreams br Where lanterns shine br Under a still veil br Of falling streams; br Long since had the dead br Become untroubled br In the light soil. br There were no mouths br To drink of the wind, br Nor any eyes br To sharpen on the stars' br Wide heaven-holding, br Only the sound br Long sibilant-muscled trees br Were lifting up, the black poplars. br br And in their blazing solitude br The stars sang in their sockets through br the night: br `Blow bright, blow bright br The coal of this unquickened world.