At night, the speaker lies awake while the wind hammers the window like a huge black-winged beast. She is afraid, shudders, and longs for light; the window that once opened to moonlight and gentle dreams now shuts out something wild and violent. The mood is tense and almost nightmarish.
Then she recalls a day on a sea cliff when the same wind seemed soft, crooning in the pines and touching her lips like wine. The landscape felt lush and intimate, as if nature guarded a meeting between lovers. Yet even that memory holds a hint of violence: the wind tore rose petals. The final lines make the grief clear—that day was “long years ago,” and her true love was there. The whole movement is from present fear to bittersweet longing, with the wind becoming a figure for overwhelming emotion and loss.