A cold wind blows from the north, scattering birds like spray over the town, while a train roars out of the same darkening sky, all steam and noise. The speaker feels that harsh movement around him but remains still. He describes himself as turning and setting like a compass needle, waiting to hear that “she is free.” Yet the needle never swings away: it stays fixed to the lode of her agony. The poem captures a suspended, almost helpless state. He is not at peace; he is bound to someone else’s suffering and can only wait for news of release. The northern wind and darkening air make the waiting feel cold and uneasy, as if change is coming but has not arrived.
Patience — Summary
A WIND comes from the north Blowing little flocks of birds Like spray across the town, And a train, roaring forth, Rushes stampeding down With cries and flying curds Of steam, out of the darkening north.
Whither I turn and set Like a needle steadfastly, Waiting ever to get The news that she is free; But ever fixed, as yet, To the lode of her agony.