In the middle of the night, a wind rises — something “she” had always feared. The speaker, heavy with grief, is drawn to the child’s room at the end of the hall. The flickering candles and leaping shadows greet her, but the child lies small and still, beyond all care. The wind’s wailing becomes a sound of pure loss: the speaker remembers how the child would have cried for her warm, familiar arms and her comforting presence. Now, there is no reaching out, no need for comfort. The poem is steeped in a mood of desolate mourning, where a mother’s protective instinct is met with absolute silence. Every detail — the wind, the candles, the shadows on the wall — heightens the sense of absence and the terrible finality of death.
A Wind in the Night — Summary
A wind rose in the night, (She had always feared it so!) Sorrow plucked at my heart And I could not help but go.
Softly I went and stood By her door at the end of the hall. Dazed with grief I watched The candles flaring and tall.
The wind was wailing aloud: I thought how she would have cried For my warm familiar arms And the sense of me by her side.
The candles flickered and leapt, The shadows jumped on the wall. She lay before me small and still And did not care at all.